Family and More
by Neteret
Summary: A family is murdered and Calleigh, back on duty, is trying to figure out why. Everyone is wondering where Horatio is. Horatio is trying to escape his feelings of guilt and sadness and has a change of plans. With many heartfelt thanks to Jasmine105 for her monumental efforts at smoothing out the rough edges, I present this twist.
1. Chapter 1

Peter Malovasic regarded his wife fondly as she sat by their pool on the couch with her legs stretched out. He sighed in contentment as he waved his hand through the chest deep water in the shallow end of the pool. The feel of the water through his fingers was magical. Behind him lay the large patio that led to the back door of his home. The very fact that Miriam was out here showed that, at last, she was done with all of the details of moving in and seemed happy. That made him happy; he had hit it big and wanted nothing more than to give her everything she deserved.

Well, she should be happy after so many years of making do first on what the government laughingly called his CIA's salary and then on the iffy income he had made as a private investigator in which he occasionally acted as a private witsec (witness security) man. Besides shitty pay, government employment was always subject to cutbacks. Even self-employment was not a way to get rich in spite of the word to the contrary. However, Miriam had been a good sport and made fun of finding ways to live on barely enough. He would see to it now that she and their son would never have to pinch a penny again.

The shadows from the crossed beams that served as shade across part of the patio were now throwing their hatch marks across the screened doors. It was afternoon and the Miami sun was slanting into Malovasic's eyes.

He raised his hand to shade his vision as he viewed his son, Tad. At fourteen he was turning into quite a lad and his swimming skills were getting stronger. The swimming coach said Tad had a great future in the sport if only he had a place to practice every day. Now he did. The boy reached the invisible edge of the pool, turned and crashed his way through the water back to his dad at the shallow end.

Since before the age of eleven, he had not been such a great sport about what he called 'being poor'. Then three years ago when he had found his keen interest in swimming, it got worse. As time went on, he wanted four days of coaching instead of one, he wanted a suit that was cool and added speed, and he wanted access to a large pool and so on. Those desires cost about four hundred dollars a month more than the two hundred and fifty they had been paying. Trying to explain family finances to him was like explaining calculus to a kitten; even short sentences with tiny words did not work. Now, finally, the boy was happy.

Stopping by his father's side for a moment, Tad grinned and launched himself again.

Miriam rose from the lounge and called out, "Pete, you want a beer or something? I'm going to get myself some ice tea." Her Jersey accent could be cut with a knife.

"Yeah, beer sounds fine, Hon."

"Tad," Miriam called.

"Hey, don't bother him now. He wants to get in forty laps and he's only up to twenty-three."

Miriam shook her head in cheerful acceptance and turned to go into the house. He knew she would bring out an extra glass of tea that was nearly all ice for her boy to have when he was done.

Pete watched his wife's wide rear switch from side to side as she walked into the house. He smiled again. What was in that suit was soft and smooth as custard, just the way he liked it. He looked down at his tanning barrel chest and protruding belly. He leaned back and let his face drink in the afternoon sun. For sure, this was the life.

After what seemed like a long wait for his beer, Pete heard a crash of breaking glass and his wife's scream.

"Pete! Help! Pete!"

He turned to heave himself out of the pool only to see his wife running out of the house followed closely by three men. They all had guns.

"What the hell is this?" Pete yelled.

A fraction of a second later, Pete Malovasic fell back into the pool with three bullets in his face. He didn't hear the next shots that killed his wife or the following shots that killed Tad. He didn't hear the screams.

Frank Tripp referred to his notes as he spoke. "Three shot dead out here. Two in the pool and the one you passed."

Calleigh Duquesne looked over her shoulder at the sprawled woman on the patio just outside the door. There were four wounds in her back and a huge pool of drying blood. The red had not quite reached the patio drain a few feet away. She looked to the pool. From where she stood, she could only see one figure nearest her. "Where is the third victim, Frank?"

"Over by the far edge in the deeper end." Tripp's face remained solemn as he rattled off the facts to his wife. "From the casings we've seen, the suspects shot two of them from there," he pointed to where the piazza covering ended, "and at least one ran to the side of the pool to shoot the other victim at the end of the pool." He pointed to where the zero edge of the pool marked a line between the view of civilized water and wild ocean.

"Did you find where the shooters got in?"

Frank shook his head. "From what we've found so far, they just rang the doorbell and were let in."

Calleigh's blond hair dropped from her right shoulder as she turned her head to look toward the house. "With a house like this and they just answer the door to anyone? That's odd."

Frank smiled down at his wife. If she was thinking on those lines, she was doing fine. This was the first major case she had come out on since returning to work last week. He wasn't sure she was ready even now but this gave him reassurance. Of course, there would still be long, sad silences between them at home. Neither had blamed the other for the loss of their son, Jake, but they both still mourned the absence of their remaining son's twin brother.

Frank had returned to work a month before she had. At the time, they both had doubts she would ever return to the lab, such was her worry about Frank Jr. Oddly, it was Frank Jr. who signaled he could stand his mother's absence.

"Frank, I could swear little Frank was waiting for me to leave!" She was referring to the visit from their Nanny, Lupe Nunez. Lupe had become a family friend and since the kidnapping occasionally dropped by for a visit. On this particular day, two and a half months after little Jake had been taken from them, little Frank had fairly leapt into Lupe's arms and then, "He gave me the same look he used to give me when I was about to leave for work. You know, that, 'Okay, I've got Lupe so you can go now' look he used to have."

Frank had held a wait and see attitude until now. Seeing her eyes alight with her thoughts on the scene so soon was good.

Calleigh continued, "I wonder if they even have any security system?" She walked under the lattice pergola that served as shade to the double door entry to the kitchen. Not seeing anything like a camera under the spaced four-by-fours that provided broken shade from the fierce tropical sun, she went into the home.

Frank forcibly took his eyes from his wife's adorable little figure and looked to the end of the pool. "Hey Eric, you going in or just going to admire the pretty red water all day?"

Eric called back familiarly at the jibe. "I'm waiting for you to suit up so you can join me."

Frank grunted. "Believe me that would be a horrible sight you wouldn't be able to scrub from your mind for the rest of your life. Just get those bodies out before Loman gets here or we'll both never hear the end of it."

The Russian-Cuban waived his hand in a careless gesture. "I wish that was all there was to it. I'd just use a pole to get them out and be done with it."

"What's the rest?"

"That's why I'm in dive gear, Frank; I have to swim through this mess and look for bullets. I'm betting they fired more than they hit."

Frank had no answer for that. He was old school enough that he only thought of recovering evidence he could immediately see. If that wasn't enough, then he would have gone back to look for more evidence. To him that was a much more simple process than guessing where evidence might be.

When Walter, Ryan and Natalia slipped under the yellow tape, Frank decided to head to the front of the home. As he walked through the open front door, he found Calleigh outside on the huge stepping stones leading to the home grand entry. She was looking at the twenty foot polished wood columns on either side of the raised wood platform that served as a porch.

"I see cameras, but they don't look to me like they're on."

Frank's voice was heavy as he spoke, "If the shooters knew that, I guess they figured they didn't have to break and enter."

Calleigh smiled brightly. "I wonder if they really did just come up and ring the doorbell. If they did, I'll bet they left a perfect print."

"I'm going out to see if my team has found anything on the road. After that, I'll do a little knock'n'talk around the neighborhood."

"Sure. Catch you later." Calleigh had turned to the doorbell before she even finished her sentence.

Frank's long strides were taking him hallway to the entrance gate before her words reached him.

Calleigh retrieved a fingerprint from the doorbell and put the tape neatly placed on print card in a baggy and into her case. She then dusted the door handle and retrieved the prints in the same manner.

Returning inside, she searched out the room where she expected to find the security center for the home. Any self-respecting mansion in Miami equipped with cameras had a room with the screens set up for each view, even if it was only a closet. In this case, she found two. One was next to the small office space up stairs and next to the master bedroom suite. The other was in the kitchen office area inside a gigantic armoire. Each had eight screens, all dark. She took note of a sticker with a service provider company name placed on the kitchen closet's door. Then she went on to see what else she could find.

"Hey, Cal, is it alright if I come in to find the first victim's path? I saw some broken glass here in the kitchen as I came through so I'm assuming for now that is part of it. The female victim's feet show signs of cuts."

"Actually, Natalia, I think the front door could have been the starting point."

Natalia looked past Calleigh's shoulder in the direction of the front of the house. "I didn't see any sign of forced entry there."

"That's just it. You see, the security cameras are all off and if there was an electronic switch to the front gate, it's sure not working. It could be the shooters just waltzed up to the front door and rang the bell or maybe even walked in. I have prints from the doorbell and the handle but who knows what I'll get. Right now, I'm just speculating on possibilities."

"I'll start from the front gate then and work my way to the patio door. Walter has the patio covered."

"I'm going to check out what the guys have found so far. Give me a call if you find something interesting."

"Will do." Natalia, case and camera in hand, her eyes on the floor, walked carefully through the home to the front entrance.

As soon as Calleigh walked into the pool area, Ryan called out to her. "Calleigh, I found an entrance into this area from the side of the house. I made sure it was clear, and then I called Tom and told him to come through that way."

"Good thinking Ryan. We still don't know what we have from inside the house. The evidence suggests the path was from the front of the house to here but we won't know for another hour or so."

"Yeah, I figured. Tom said he was still half an hour out."

Calleigh looked at the figure of the sprawled woman and turned to look up at the sky. "It'll be dark in a couple of hours. We're going to have to step up our game to get the initial investigation finished."

"Walter seems to have this area covered. Eric has one body out and is getting the other one now. He's going to dive the pool for evidence after that. You want me out here or with you?"

Calleigh assessed the activity in the pool area before she answered. "Why not come and help me? Between the officers and Eric and Walter, and Natalia, I guess everything else is well covered. We can look around in general for something that might tell us more about these people."

The team's second in command caught Eric Delko's eye to silently check how he was doing. He smiled his crooked 'got it' grin and nodded familiarly at the blond. Her gaze went over to Walter who was bent over an evidence marker snapping photos. As he looked up, his round face opened in a typically boyish grin before he proceeded to another marker. Assured of her decision, she returned to the interior of the home.

After telling Ryan about the security system not working, they divided up the home. Ryan took the second story and Calleigh started with the maid's chamber off the kitchen.

Ryan first went to the most obvious room for clues, the office. Not only was there a laptop computer, to his great satisfaction, it had no password protection. 'Thank heaven for trusting souls,' he thought. After a few minutes of search, he was satisfied it was worth bringing in. With no further ado, Ryan Wolfe turned the computer off and set it at the top of the stairs.

Beside the working desk, set into a wall cabinet, there was a bank of view screens for the security cameras, all dark. Had they been tampered with? A quick diagnostic proved the cameras were simply turned off. Calleigh's find of a note with a service provider number now made sense. Security had not been high on this family's priority; odd for people living in a neighborhood of this caliber. It would be interesting to find out how long the family had occupied the home.

Calleigh found the maid's room literally bare; there was no furniture, no bed or dresser, and nothing in the closets. This was unheard of; people living in a million dollar mansion with no maid was like owning a junk yard with no dog. Retracing her steps, she checked the hall cupboards and the utility closet. The cupboards were barely half full of linens. The service room had the full complement of clothes washer, dryer, ironing materials, cleaning solutions, buckets and so on. So, where was the maid? This led to much musing on Calleigh's part. Never having been rich, she could imagine living without a maid but had never in her entire career found a rich person who didn't have at least one full time, live-in maid.

She pulled her chiming phone from her pocket. "Yes Ryan?"

"Cal, how long would you guess these people were in this house?"

"Funny you should ask, Ryan. I was beginning to wonder that myself. Why do you ask?"

"The cameras weren't tampered with, they're just not on. You did say there was a note with a service provider's name didn't you?"

"You think maybe they had a false sense of security?"

"Sounds like. But, then, what teen age boy doesn't have his bedroom walls decorated with posters of some kind within two months of moving in?"

"Try one month. You mean the kid's bedroom is clean?"

"I'd call it minimalist messy. Even his bathroom has only got the bare essentials for a boy."

"A boy who hasn't lived long enough to make his space his own is criminal in itself."

"I did find something really interesting though. A laptop with a few files."

"You're bringing that thing in to the lab, right?"

"You know it."

Walter's head appeared at the patio door. "Calleigh, Loman is here."

"Keep looking and bring down whatever else you think is pertinent, Ryan. Call if you need me."

Calleigh hurried outside to greet Dr. Tom Loman, the Miami-Dade Medical Examiner.

He was already kneeling beside the dead woman. His plastic gloved hands were gently probing around her head and neck, feeling down her arms and then her legs. Finally he felt her body for the near obvious cause of the blood loss. In the end, he carefully rolled the fully formed figure from her stomach and onto her back.

Before speaking, he looked up to see if his words were going to be going to anyone who cared. "Oh, hello Detective Duquesne. Is Horatio still on his vacation?"

"Yes. I'm the boss for now."

Loman's face opened into his habitual almost embarrassed grin. "Well, my reports stay the same no matter who gets them. This one is fairly obvious. She was shot in the back, three times. From the exit wounds I'd say two went to the heart and then, as she fell, one went to the shoulder. If she didn't die from trauma she went from exsanguination." He looked to the men who had come in with him. "Pack her up boys."

Tom rose to his six foot two height and walked to the drying body of the man who had been laid on his back. After a quick exam he pronounced, "This one is obvious. The shooters had it out for him." He rose and nodded to the returning men.

The medical examiner's pace slowed ever so slightly as he approached the child's body. As he went to one knee, he proclaimed, "Why this? Why did they have to do this?"

He used the utmost care to probe the boy's body. "One shot to the side of the head, two to the back. I'm guessing they just kept shooting until they saw enough blood to satisfy them. The head shot definitely did the job and I'm guessing this one in the back severed the spine. Of course, I'll know more after the autopsy."

Calleigh nodded at the too familiar words.

Standing, Loman ordered the men to return to the van to get a new bag. Shaking his head he explained, "His last ride should be in the best style we can provide."

"Please call me as soon as you have some information, Tom."

"Always, Lieutenant Duquesne."

Calleigh noticed Eric sitting quietly on a stone bench to one side of the pool. He still had his wet suit on, his goggles and snorkel beside him.

"You find anything?"

"Two spent bullets so far. I'm going in to make a couple of more sweeps. I don't think there will be anything more of any value. Even if there are more bullets it'll just prove they shot a lot and missed a lot; same old story."

"Yeah. But the more bullets we get, the easier it might be to find the guns and their shooters." Calleigh tried to put some perk into her voice.

"Hey, you hear from H?"

"Yeah, I got a text from him. He said he's bringing back a big bouquet of paper flowers for us all."

"When will that be?"

"That, he didn't say."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So, what have you found in those files?"

Both Ryan and Eric looked up at Calleigh in unison and then at each other.

Ryan grinned. "Did I tell you? Half an hour to the second." He stuck out his hand. "Pay up."

Calleigh flashed a broad grin. "You had a bet as to how soon it would take for me to ask for an analysis? Do you do that with Horatio?"

Eric's eyes went wide open as he looked about the room for an excuse. "H isn't you Calleigh. Ryan went for hyperdrive at thirty minutes. I said forty-five minutes at least."

"So, you decided to find the information superfast and not disappoint the new boss, right?"

"Yeeahhh, wel-l-l…" Ryan waffled.

"It isn't all that easy," Eric began.

It was all Calleigh could do to keep from stamping her foot. Sometimes being five foot six in four inch heels and blond and green eyed was a detriment. "Just give me what you've got. Maybe I can give you some help."

There was a quick flash of challenge in Eric's eyes at the idea of needing help. "This guy kept what looks like case files. Only thing is, he never mentions names, just says subject, and subject wife. H doesn't even use the possessive as if they are inanimate objects. Maybe this was in case the computer got hacked or stolen or confiscated."

Calleigh mulled over Eric's words. "Only in this case, the computer wasn't taken. In fact, nothing was taken as far as we can ascertain. Purses and wallets were left and no effort to find the safe was made. If he was hiding the information from anyone, who, besides the law was he hiding it from and to what end?"

"Besides a variety of cases that just look like wife or husband cheating, there is one case that is really vague. Subject and object are brought together and plans are made to 'go to ground' and that's it.

The other file has to do with making arrangements for a cousin from Mexico. We're still going over that one."

"Okay, call me when you have something."

Calleigh, by sheer habit, went into her personal lab area. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and searched the list of numbers. After a while, she hit dial and put the small device to her ear.

"Hello, Ian? Hi, this is Calleigh Duquesne from CSI. You worked a couple of times with us."

The overly eager voice, boisterous with emotion, spouted through the phone. "Oh, of course! A pleasure to hear from you. Give Lieutenant Caine my regards."

"I will. Right now, if you have some time, you'll be working with me."

"I am always available for you Detective," he crooned.

Although the words could be taken wrong, Calleigh knew Ian Sutter, bookkeeper extraordinaire, meant no harm. This was his way of being pleasant. She gave him the names of the victims. "I need you to find out when he got that house and how."

"Why would you wonder how he got his home?"

"He spent over twenty years working with the CIA and then the last eight years as a private investigator."

Sutter interrupted. "Say no more. You want to know how a government employee slash self-employed gumshoe could possibly afford a mansion in Miami. I am assuming it's a mansion, not a two bedroom, one bath in Little Havana."

"I'd say it's a million at least. See where that money came from."

"I'll get back to you as soon as I have something."

Looking around the lab was easy to do through the layers of transparent walls. Lights had odd casts of color and each layer of glass added its own tint and prismatic comment but did not entirely disguise the lab workers. Even the long distance view to the elevator didn't hide her husband, Frank's, entry.

They met in the vacant center of the lab.

"So, did you find out anything from talking with the neighbors?" Unless there was an emergency at home, they never discussed their personal lives at work. As it had been before they started their relationship several years ago, so it was now.

"Yeah. Of course, most of it varies depending on who is talking." He referred to his notes. "Lady next door to the south thought they were loud and crass. She said they sounded like those 'people on those New Jersey reality shows'. Of course she was from Maine and never learned to sound out the letter R, but I don't think that passed her mind." Frank blinked his light green eyes and reset the slight 'O' of disapproval his own mouth had formed.

"She heard the shots but just thought they were having a fight or something.

"The neighbor on the other side is a widower and hard of hearing. He didn't even know the house had changed hands. He thought the previous owners were maybe on vacation for a while and then came back. He didn't hear the gunfire."

"Who were the previous owners?"

"No one knew them either. Most think there was a man and his wife and two boys. They had been around for almost a year and then no one saw them for a while. No one thought it unusual though since people go on vacation for months at a time in these areas."

Calleigh nodded her head. "Well, finding out the names of the previous owners won't be hard. With Ian Sutter on the job, he'll have no problem there."

Frank shook his head. "Sutter? Isn't he that bookkeeper?"

"That's right. He helped us on a couple of cases about seven or eight years ago."

"I know he gave some help but in this case, isn't that just a waste of resources?"

Calleigh giggled. "You do know it was a bookkeeper that brought down Al "Scarface" Capone?"

"Well, I knew it was the Feds and he was caught cheating on his taxes."

"And it was a Fed bookkeeper who saw the error. Ask Ian about it sometime; he'll be happy to fill you in on every gory detail."

Frank shuddered slightly. "I'm sure he would but, no thanks." Although Frank could deal with the dead and even dismembered bodies, finances gave him a headache.

"The victim was former CIA with the Witness Protection program and then self-employed. Neither he or his wife came from money at first glance."

Frank's jaw dropped. "Then you and I are doing this all wrong. We should be rolling in dough."

"Tonight I'll go over the bank book and see if I left off a couple of zeros by accident."

"I'll check family records to see if any rich relative died and left us money we forgot about."

"So, nothing else from anyone?"

"I gave them the usual message to call me if they remember anything else. I have a feeling we'll get reports of a car colored purple, green or orange with a top up/down, four door sports car and no wheels, parked, rolling by, and flying overhead."

"Any other hard evidence?"

"Oh! Almost forgot, yeah." Frank reached into his suit jacket pocket. "Walter found this under the boy's mattress."

"I didn't think the kids kept diaries anymore. I thought they just put it all out there on the internet."

"I thought only girls kept diaries."

"Girls used to have the need to figure out how to put their thoughts into words and would put them into a diary. It's a lost art now."

"Maybe the kid was gay or something. Walter said he figured it wouldn't be of much use."

Calleigh looked at the closed book. "You never know. Later I'll go over the last few days and see what the kid had to say."

"Okay, I'll go down and start writing out some reports."

"And I have some bullets to analyze. Maybe I can find out if the guns have been used before."

Frank turned and headed for the elevator. A moment later, Calleigh entered the second elevator and pressed the B button.

The walk from the elevator to the morgue got colder with every step. Pushing the swinging double doors open she spotted Tom bending over a pale figure on the examining table.

"Hey Tom, I know I shouldn't be rushing you but…"

Tom Loman stood and directed his pale blue eyes at Calleigh. "I never rush, Calleigh. This is an exacting business and I can't hurry through it."

"Do you have the least bit of trace for me?"

"If you care to wait another five minutes, I might be able to dig a few more bullet fragments out which, if I am not mistaken, will make a whole."

"Alright, for that, I can wait. This is the father, right?"

Pulling out a metal shard, Tom went for another. "That's right. He took three bullets to the head. One went through and through and I'm assuming landed in the pool. One is somewhere as yet undetermined inside the body. This one cut through just above his incisors in the maxilla and then shattered as it hit the left temporal connection to the maxilla."

Tom paused as he bent over the victims head. "The hole going in is quite small and clean so I'm using a magnetized probe. What I have already is beginning to look like a somewhat mangled bullet but I swear I feel another bit in here and it's not bone."

After a bit of a grunt he pulled the probe out with a wide grin. "And I believe your patience has paid off."

He dipped the fragment in a bowl of cleaning solution and dropped it into a clear plastic bag that already contained tiny shiny objects. After he had sealed it with red tape and initialed it, his square face beaming under his fine blond hair, he handed the bag to Calleigh.

"From me to you. About as clear a line of evidence as we can get."

"Thanks Tom. If you find anything else, call me."

"Oh indeed I will."

Riding up, Calleigh hoped this new bullet would provide some extra evidence. The possibility it wouldn't was high. After all, they had five other bullets from the pool. They didn't even know how many gunmen there were. Maybe there had been only one. She shrugged, well, that was why there was bullet analysis and more.

To Calleigh, this is what Crime Scene Investigation, CSI, what forensic science was all about. They took whatever they found and ran it through any reasonable test available to them. The idea was to connect physical evidence with other physical evidence, and then connect it all to a person or people. If nothing added up, they looked for more evidence, and ran more tests. Calleigh had been doing this for over twelve years and never got tired of it. There was no 'same old, same old' each day. Anytime she turned on a machine, it was to analyze the content, to literally sniff out any volatile substances, or to enhance her vision. Anything found on a victim, in a crime scene or in a suspect's surroundings offered rich material for the inquiring mind.

Her phone rang. "Duquesne."

"Lieutenant, I have the first piece of the puzzle." Ian's voice was all business tinged with the sweetness of excitement.

"Yes?"

"The former owners of the home were actually easy to track. Their names were Liang. Liang Woo emigrated here from Chengdu in the Sechuan province. He married a second generation Chinese girl Tang Shun. This is considering that in China, last names come first, you know."

Calleigh nodded at the phone. "What else?"

"All I know so far is that they had two boys that are ten and thirteen now. About eight months ago, they left Miami and took up residence in a high security condominium in San Diego, California. Apparently they moved the furniture out and abandoned this house, leaving it to the tax collector. Or maybe they sold it privately. I still haven't gotten to that part yet. Feel free to do your own background check on their legal records. I won't feel like you're stepping into my territory."

"See what else you can find on their financial details and I'll see if the law has anything on them."

"Sounds good."

"Doesn't the real estate broker know anything?"

"Which real estate broker? Every third human in Miami is a real estate broker. I can't find any records of sales. That could mean there were none or it could mean the papers haven't been run through the system yet."

"Okay, do the best you can. Call when you have something, alright?"

As Calleigh closed her phone she saw Walter walking into the display room with a stack of papers.

"Hey Walter, what'cha got?"

"All the photos everyone took. Oh, by the way, Natalia said she was going home. She isn't feeling well."

"Oh dear."

"Yeah, she looked like she swallowed a tub full of sewage. I'm guessing she got the flu."

"Then just as well she isn't trying to brave it out and passing it around."

Walter handed Calleigh half of the stack of photos and started spreading them out on the glowing surface of the table.

After half an hour, they had them arranged with views of the bodies first, then different views of the pool area, the kitchen, the maid's room, the path to the front door, the stairs leading to the second floor and finally each room occupied by the family. The other three bedrooms were still bare.

Calleigh paused a moment and took the phone out of her pocket. "Hey, Travers. I hate to interrupt what you're doing but I need you to do something for me."

The British lab tech replied in his crisp voice. "Of course, Calleigh."

"Go to the evidence box on the new case that came in today and pull out my fingerprint envelope. I need you to run them through AFIS."

Michael Travers was nothing if not obliging. Still, Calleigh saw him seek her out through the many glass panes in the lab surroundings.

She saw him as he waved tentatively and she nodded. She hoped what she saw in acknowledgement was a smile though that was unlikely. She did flash a smile back at him. To pull a chemical analyst off his work to do fingerprint analysis was uncommon but not unprecedented. After all, working with this team meant they were all capable of being a jack of all trades. Calleigh was still working on the art of delegating work.

Once the photos were arranged, she left Walter to contemplate the order and make any further tweaks while she went on to the gun lab.

'Ah, yes, quiet at last,' she thought. She took up two of the five spent bullets and inserted each into slots. Then she steadied her head over the binocular eye pieces and began searching for any similarities.

As she went over this very familiar procedure, she let her mind wander. She was fairly sure she was keeping track of everything on the case, delegating work and so on. She just wished she didn't have to. She knew she couldn't fault Horatio for being on vacation. Still, it was a shame he was gone on her first week back.

She sat up and set her mouth primly. No, must not think of such things. He had never taken a vacation in all the years she had known him. She had, other team members had, but never Horatio Caine. If anyone deserved a break he did and it was not up to her to blame his choice of timing.

They all had guesses at the cause. Some thought maybe he simply realized he was human like the rest of them and needed to renew his outlook on life. Others knew only that Solange had disappeared from his life and his personality had taken a dark turn for a few days. A couple guessed he had gone after her

No one, not even she, knew where he was.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Horatio Caine rose from the bed to face the morning light whether he wished to or not. Rising to the dawn was a lifetime gut reaction, something he automatically did, not anything he wished to do. Now, he just stood up more slowly, now he waited just the barest second before taking the first step. That first look in the mirror, as he examined his face before shaving, was becoming more and more something of a shock. For so long he had looked younger than his age and well, let's admit it, attractive as well. His life had been good partly because of that, and mainly because he was intelligent and loved his work.

He stood up and looked at his bare chest, pale under the sparse patch of still deep red hair. Here and there, a couple on his shoulders, one on his left side, were scars from rather bad encounters. Part of the stiffness was caused by those scars. That most recent one was still causing him trouble.

He looked himself in his sky blue eyes. 'Really old man, how long can you go on?'

He had no reply and, for now, no answer was required. He was on vacation and didn't need to worry about threat of being shot or stabbed.

He spent the rest of the time showering and shaving in the tiny hotel bathroom, listening to the growing noise from the streets. People were taking advantage of the cool morning hours to get the freshest vegetables from the markets.

An hour later he leaned back in the chair that sat sideways to the small table. His long legs were elegantly crossed; one arm casually lay on the table. Just at hand on the table was a tall footed mug of black Mexican coffee.

He had placed himself as far from the small group of musicians as he could. It was not that he did not like the music but he wanted to get the full effect of the whole atmosphere. He wanted to hear the street noises, the café crowd chatter, the call of the market sellers, all at once. He inhaled and found the aroma of strong coffee, pastries, cigars, flowers, and a whole variety of people odors. There was also the perfume from the market; spices and herbs freshly unpacked or hung in the breeze, the more subtle odor of vegetables, mixed with the fruits and nuts. Ducks, chickens, geese, and even goats produced a heavy smell all their own. This last included a chorus that sounded like a family around the dinner table.

Now he leaned back, with eyes closed, and enjoyed what he could identify and tried to figure out the rest. It was like listening to a symphony, trying to identify the themes, the individual instruments and so on.

In the week since he had arrived he felt the pain that had enveloped him loosen bit by bit. His mind was still stiff but at least not caked in cement. Was he ready to think about Solange? No, not yet.

The lilt of Spanish words interrupted his thoughts. "Are you doing well, señor? Do you need anything more, yet?"

"Gracias, nada." He went on to assure the waiter he would signal if he did. He also silently thanked the man for reminding him he was not here to brood.

Keeping his thoughts from sinking again, he heard a child of about eleven, meandered through the crowd, banging two sticks together singing. Like most street kids, he was only wearing cutoff jeans, the rest of his body was bare including his feet. He would stand by a table for a moment and, if ignored, wander on. Some people gave him money and he stood by them and sang louder for a few moments. Most of those waved him on. He was singing a song of a lonely man who was looking for love in the stars.

Horatio smiled and waited for the boy to get to him. He knew his red hair would attract the kid like a moth to a flame. When he did, he let the boy stand in front of him and sing for a moment and then put his hand into his pocket and pulled out about a dollar's worth of Mexican coins. The boy stopped singing and held out his hand with a broad smile. Horatio, however, knew the game and held up a finger of his other hand. Using his near perfect Spanish, he said, "Promise, if I give you this you will leave this area immediately."

With only the slightest show of disappointment the boy nodded. "Prometo, Señor."

As soon as the money was dropped into his palm, the boy was off like a shot.

Taking a gulp of his coffee and leaving a coin on the table, he stood to his six foot height and strode off down the small side street where he had found the patio café. Although the sky was slightly overcast, there was enough sun coming through that he pulled his glasses from the shirt pocket and put them on. He adjusted the brim of the panama hat and walked slowly among the crowd. He didn't know where he was going or care. His time was his own. He swung his pale arms as he walked. Like so many people who seldom take vacations, he wondered why he hadn't done this long ago.

The thing was, where to go today. He knew the culture inside and out, he had already been to the unfinished excavation site in the downtown area, to three museums, and had thoroughly enjoyed a Mexican ballet presentation. He was unable to eat more than half of any of the bountifully prepared meals he had ordered at the several fine restaurants. However, he was sure something would turn up.

Two hours later, he entered one of the many tree filled parks in the city. Sitting on the edge of the splendid central fountain, he aimlessly watched some elderly citizens throwing crumbs to the pigeons. 'So,' he thought, 'this is what having nothing to do and all day to do it in is like.' He considered further. 'Free all day and no one to do it 'with' as well.'

He snapped his fingers and reached for his cell phone. Even though he had brought it, he had turned it off until now. The light was an old friend bathing him in welcome. It took him a minute to find the name, and he took a deep breath hoping his call would at least be accepted and punched his finger at it.

After a few rings, he heard a greeting.

"Hello Anita, this is Horatio Caine."

He hoped the pause was one of being startled.

"Horatio, I'm so very glad to hear from you. How are things in Miami?"

"Actually, I'm here in Mexico City."

"How long have you been here? Are you following a case?"

"I'm here on vacation. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine."

There was that deathly pause that happens between two people who do not know each other very well and wonder what the other person is thinking.

Horatio plunged in. "I'm here alone and have seen most of what a tourist usually sees alone. Since I'm here though, I thought I'd give you a call and see if you would like to meet for dinner some evening."

"I would be delighted. I was recently able to hire an extra deputy so I have more free time. I would much rather have dinner than do paperwork."

Moments later, having agreed to meet that night in Mexico City at a restaurant they both knew, they hung up.

Horatio scooted himself back on the fountain edge until his feet left the ground. For the next ten minutes or so, he happily swung his feet, feeling the warmth of the sun as it broke through the clouds.

When he noticed the benches around the fountain emptying, he was reminded that siesta time was approaching. Even if people didn't sleep anymore in this air conditioned, fast paced world, they still took a rest. Days here were divided into two. The morning was getting things done, the evening was still for business and a bit of joy but was usually extended to long dinners and late nights. He returned to the small hotel and lay down thinking he would make a list in his head for making preparations for the evening.

A few hours later, Horatio stirred, briefly wondering where he was. Even after a week, waking up in a strange location still made him uneasy. Then, recalling his location, the rest came back in a flood and he sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Once he was presentable for the world, he stepped out onto the late afternoon streets. The temperatures were still warm but showed promise of cooling. At more than seven thousand feet, the evenings would turn quickly chilly even in the tropical high summer. Before meeting Anita that night, he had some shopping to do. The first stop was a barber. Happily, not only did the man not leave him looking like he had just had a bowl slapped on his head, he had a nice line of hair finishing products to keep his customer's baby fine red gold hair in place against the inevitable night breeze.

Next Horatio went to a small shop that sold nice looking evening shirts. He had packed lightly, not knowing what he would be doing. He bought a light blue cotton guayabera that contrasted nicely, he hoped, with his eyes. The traditional short sleeved wedding shirt with embroidery of the same color of the background mixed in with the fine vertical pleats was actually a multipurpose man's wear. It was popular for formal to casual events. Finally, on a whim, he bought a pair of 'formal' sandals with heavy straps leaving the toes and heels open. He knew the ensemble was a corny choice and he did not care. A vacation does not have to be perfect, just fun.

That night at about eight thirty: "Horatio! How good it is to see you! A week of vacation here has agreed with you!"

"Thank you. I'm glad you could make the drive."

"Are you kidding? There are restaurants in La Cancion but I only take people I don't like to them. Besides, the roads are very easy to drive now. They have to keep the roads to Mexico City in good repair because of the wine produced in our area."

"They make good wine?"

"Some of the finest in all of Mexico. I think this place carries some."

"I won't drink alone and if you are driving home again..."

"You won't have to my friend. I already arranged for a hotel room. I often have to come here to make reports, testify against a prisoner, and so on. I never miss a chance to stay to dine and have some wine."

Throughout the course of dinner, from the tappas to the entrée (Horatio chose the pollo mole) and finally sharing a very American 'to die for' chocolate cake, they drank wine, talked and laughed.

Her brother, Carlos, was in with a 'bad' crowd, but, she said, she was working on it. "It's just what kids do."

"Yes, my son, Kyle went through that."

"As far as business goes, the gangs are getting some new guns in from somewhere. The stupid part is, the guns are blowing up in their faces. I should be glad."

Horatio nodded knowledgably. "But you have to treat it as a crime."

"Worse, the Mala Noche is treating it as a crime against them." Anita paused and smiled in embarrassment. "All of this is no talk for a man on vacation, is it?"

Horatio's brow wrinkled in the least hint of a frown yet his mouth spread in a smile. "Are we ever on vacation?"

"How is your team doing on the personal front?"

Horatio filled her in on little Jakes' kidnapping. "We have tantalizing clues, leads that go nowhere, everything disappears in a mist, you know how it goes."

"Funny, if it were just a case, someone else's baby you would have had to call it cold and go on."

Horatio's look grew cold for a moment. "We're going to be on it until Calleigh has her baby in her arms."

"Of course."

"How are you doing? Are you doing alright?"

"You mean without Geraldo? I am. I mean, once your husband tries to kill you, you don't pine for him for very long."

"So there were no repercussions on your job?"

"Here?" Anita waved her chocolate covered fork in a tight circle. "I get the feeling you know the Latin mind and you understand we don't mix love and business. We know the heart has no mind and has nothing to do with our ability to do our work. The fault was with Geraldo. As for the Mala Noche, they had no beef with me and look at me as an annoyance they have to put up with like you feel about mosquitos. I am still Sheriff of La Cancion and shall be until I am ready to quit."

Quickly changing the subject, Anita related a humorous happening between a deputy, a donkey and an irate elderly woman. The woman had called because her pet donkey would not come in to her house out of the cold. When the deputy refused to help, she tried to sic the donkey on him by slipping a carrot into his back pocket. The deputy suggested she could have tried to lure the animal into the house with that carrot and she said that that would have been a waste of a good carrot.

Of course, Horatio had to play one up and related a tale from his days on the New York police force. He ended the story with, "And to prove her point, she climbed up on top of a cab, naked as the day she was born and a good deal heavier, and demanded she be taken past her husband's store. Then she said we couldn't arrest her on the grounds that her fat covered her lower private parts and that men could walk the streets chest bare chested so this would be discrimination."

"Did you arrest her?"

"On the grounds that she couldn't ride outside of the confines of a vehicle without a permit."

"Who got to clean out your squad car?"

"I was the new guy so it was me. Did I mention this took place in the worst of New York summertime?" Horatio rolled his eyes and held his nose, waving the air with the other hand while Anita laughed heartily.

"Either way, our jobs aren't all that different, are they?"

Horatio, who was drunker than he had been in years, queried, "Would you have it any other way?"

"Why do you think I got into this job? When I was a little girl, I saw the police on the la pelicula on television, doing fun things every day. I wanted a gun and a badge too."

Somewhere around the time their waiter brought bread to the table, an invitation was offered and accepted to spend the next day together.

An hour later, after dutifully eating of the bread as they could and feeling more sober for it, the two rose. They were not the last of the customers in the entire restaurant but at least the waiters were able to start cleaning up their section.

The conversation never lagged until they reached Anita's hotel room door. Deft as Anita was at being gracious without being a flirt, Horatio took her by surprise. She had opened the door a crack, turned to say good night and then Horatio said, "This is the wine talking." He then leaned in and kissed Anita fully on the lips, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her to him.

When she was able to pull back, Anita had a look of pleased wonder on her face. "What a delightful remark. I can't wait to meet you tomorrow to hear more."

Horatio barked out a laugh, turned and strode down the hall, swinging his arms.

Inside her room, Anita took a deep breath and let it out. She licked her lips to savor the taste from Horatio's mouth before she swallowed and inhaled then blew outward. It took her several seconds before she could trust her balance enough to move.


	4. Chapter 4

"Did you sleep well?"

Horatio let his head drop slightly before he answered. There was something about that caring inquiry coming from an attractive woman that was truly delightful. It didn't matter whether he was sexually involved with the woman, although that would have added a sweet undercurrent. He let himself glow for a moment in the warm feelings.

Raising his head, he smiled and answered, "I did. Thank you. And you?"

Leaning forward, her arms on the table, her smile showed a poorly kept mirth. "After that lovely end to the evening, I did indeed."

The small table which held coffee for each and a basket of warm bolillos vibrated slightly as she spoke.

"I hope you didn't mind."

"Wine makes for interesting conversation, does it not? I always enjoy a good chat."

Horatio nodded quietly, lowering his eyes to the bread. Was this just fun or was she propositioning him? If the latter, was he ready? Realizing he was in the middle of a conversation, he raised his eyes to hers and then bobbed his eyebrows a couple of times. "I was afraid I went too far."

Her voice light and without recrimination, she said, "Horatio, I would have let you know if I was insulted, without a second thought."

The talk next turned to possible itineraries for the day. They decided on a road trip to Teotihuacan. Although Horatio was thoroughly familiar with the great temples on the site, he knew seeing them in person would be interesting.

"Let's hurry. We have to see them in the morning, before the sun gets too warm. Protected as you think you are, pale man, the sun will have its way with you."

"Don't I know. I brought a vat of PF 150 with me; I've used half of it already and I still feel thoroughly cooked."

"This way, we'll be done before the sun gets too high."

After walking around, Horatio realized that, no matter how many pictures a person has seen of great places, nothing beat being in the middle of it all. Horatio did not bring a camera to try to capture the memory; it would have done no good and he had little reason to take proof home.

About an hour after they had arrived, they sat resting about half way up on the north steps of one of the platforms in front of the Pyramid of the Moon.

"Every time I come here, I'm overwhelmed by all of this." Anita waved a hand out in front of her.

"I can see why. It's dizzying, isn't it?"

"It is."

They sat in silence, looking around at the incredible site.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Horatio looked at her quietly, waiting.

"Why are you here?" Then she quickly raised her hand, "And don't say 'on vacation'."

Horatio smiled at his tour guide. It was hard to be evasive with a cop. He licked his lips, pausing over the words.

"You mean why am I in Mexico City, not someplace else in the world?"

"That, but well, please excuse me for trying to read your mind. It's just that you don't strike me as being the sort of man to take a vacation."

Horatio looked up at the incredible blue dome of sky that encircled the ancient area. 'What to say?' he wondered. It was never good for a cop to admit his personal life was interfering with the working mind. He had had brief breakdowns in the past, moments when he simply lay down at home and cried. Yet, when that was over, he dried his eyes and it was over. Nothing had interfered with his deductive processes, made it impossible to return to work. This time, however, was different.

"Yeah, you're right. I haven't taken a vacation in over fifteen years."

"That's a long time."

"Never seemed like it."

Anita leaned back, raising her elbows to support herself on the step above. She stretched her legs out. "The job is always interesting, isn't it?"

Horatio took a look at manicured toes peeping out of the sandals beside him. "Never gets old."

"And yet, here you are."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "And not working."

He could imagine himself as a suspect being interrogated by her. She was the type who relentlessly laid out a fact and then waited for the confession. If she didn't get it immediately she would pull out another fact and wait, and so on. He would lay odds that if she was sure he had committed a crime, she would go ballistic at some point. He decided to confess.

"I was dating a woman and she called me on some shit I was laying on her. She was right and it hit me a little harder than I anticipated."

"Forgive me, I can't imagine you laying mierda on anyone."

Horatio's voice took on a flat tone. "She had been 'loved and left', as she put it, by several men so she wouldn't let me into her bed until she was sure of me. That took six months. Then, no sooner had we finished the, uh, deed, than the phone I forgot to turn off rang. I was gone like a shot."

"Yes, so you are a police officer, on duty all day and night. After six months, didn't she know that?"

"We might have gotten over that hurdle if I hadn't taken thirty-six hours to go to her home to apologize. It only took her that length of time to move out and set her home up for sale."

"That quick?"

Now I'm trying to get my head clear.

"Well, good luck on that."

Horatio turned a wrinkled brow to his companion. "Meaning?"

Anita nodded her head to one side, raising her shoulders at the same time. "Since that day I found out what Geraldo really was, I have been wondering where I went wrong. After all, no one person in a relationship is all wrong or all right."

Horatio considered her words. The distant chatter of the growing crowds of tourists on the field were the thoughts in his head; a variety of languages, mostly foreign and too far away to make out clearly anyway. Like his own reflections on the matter, the noises below him were easy to disregard. Had he been ignoring information all this time? His chin pushed up against his mouth pushing the center of his lips up and the ends down. Well, it was something to think about.

"I guess it takes time."

To do what, his mind jabbed. Shove the shock and the sadness under the rug? Rearrange his life so he didn't mind being alone? Learn how to be the lone man in black and like it?

"How long did you intend to stay here?"

"No idea. I have enough vacation and sick days I could probably live here a year."

Anita giggled. Her Latin accent sang the words, "Somehow I don't think you're the kind of person who can take all that time off, no matter how well earned."

Horatio shifted his position so that he stretched out one long leg and leaned on an elbow. He could feel the rough stone step through his shirt. Looking across to her he said, "For now, I'm here until I have reason to leave." He watched her nod.

"And since I could use a couple of days off, I'll be happy to show you a Mexico City you probably wouldn't have imagined exists."

"What about Carlos?"

"My aunt moved in with me after Geraldo's death. My little brother has Tia Mirabel to answer to when I'm gone. She's a force in her own right."

Enjoying a long lunch in the city they parted after setting up a date for that night.

The night was warm that evening so they dined on the open patio of another nice restaurant that included wines from La Cancion. Walking her to her hotel door again, Horatio didn't try to kiss her. Not that either of them probably wouldn't have enjoyed it but they were so involved in telling wild cop tales and nearly falling down in laughter, kissing wasn't even possible. When another room door opened and a frowning face appeared, they realized how loud they had been. Anita kissed Horatio on the cheek and said good night.

So far, in his hotel, Horatio had been sleeping with the shutters open, rising with the first sounds of activity on the streets below. What with the last two late nights however, the sound of his phone ringing in the morning started out as a nagging part of his dream for what seemed like a very long time. He was about ready to use the bazooka on the plant that had become an annoying bird when he woke up.

As soon as he answered he heard, "Horatio! Carlos has been killed! I have to go home."

"Let me come with you."

"I don't think you should."

"If you won't allow it, then I won't interfere, but if you are being nice, forget it."

The decision came after only a slight pause. "I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes in front of your hotel."

For once, Horatio was glad his phone had been on.

Although he had booked the room for a week with options to stay longer, he still packed all of his belongings. This place had been rated as excellent and the reviews had raved about the service and honesty of the staff. Still, he wasn't sure how long he would be gone or if he would return. He had left word at the desk that he was leaving for a day or two and left it at that.

He had hardly stepped out to the street when Anita's little white sports car came to a quick halt. She was all business and no wasted movements. She got out of the car, went to the back, opened the trunk lid and allowed Horatio to stow his bag inside. After a brief exchange of looks between them, they marched to their respective sides of the car, got in and roared off.

"When did you get the word?"

"A few minutes before I called you. His body was found in an alley by someone in La Cancion. My deputy said he had several knife wounds." Her voice quivered with emotion.

"Any thoughts on why?"

"You mean other than he's the brother of the town sheriff? Other than running around with a questionable crowd?"

Horatio knew when to hold his silence in the face of rhetorical questions.

"What is this questionable crowd?"

"Until now, I thought they were just kids trying to work up the nerve to call themselves a gang."

"If that's anything like what we have in Miami, that usually means aligning themselves with an organized gang."

"I hoped it hadn't come to that."

Anita slapped at the steering wheel of the speeding car as she swore, "Mierda! I was so involved with my work, I wasn't paying attention!"

"I'm guessing you were paying attention. There's only so much you can do to keep track of growing kids. Let's just get there and take a look at what happened before you start blaming yourself for anything."

Anita took a deep breath and let up on the gas pedal. She threw her passenger a quick glance. "Yeah, thanks."

The rest of the drive was made in silence.

When the small car came to a quick stop, they were at the small clinica that served as emergency room, hospital and medical examiner's office. As soon as Anita burst through the doors, everyone rose and stood back. They knew and respected the sheriff and had heard the news. None were taking any chances with her anger and pain.

A man entered from the back of the receiving room. He apparently heard the front door being slammed open. Seeing the sheriff, he went to her and took one of her hands into both of his. "Anita, I'm so sorry." His Spanish carried a slight Basque accent.

Anita stood statue still for a moment before answering. "Thank you Manuel. Where is he?"

The tall man nodded and held the rear door open for Anita and then looked in askance at Horatio as he followed.

"I'm sorry, Manuel, this is a very good friend, Lieutenant Horatio Caine from the Miami Police Crime Scene Investigation lab. He's visiting and asked if he could help.

Horatio, this is Dr. Manuel Suarez. He and two other doctors somehow keep this place going well enough to serve nearly twenty thousand people."

Horatio shook hands with the man observing his high cheekbones, slightly pointed chin, the nose that flared from the narrow bridge and kind eyes that greeted him from under straight, dark eyebrows. He saw the same look as he had observed in Alexx Woods and Tom Loman and immediately knew he would trust almost anything he could reveal from Carlos' death.

Suarez turned and led the way deeper into the building.

"I would have asked your aunt to come in to identify the body but…"

"But she would have become hysterical and taken up one of your hospital beds for a week. No, it's alright." Anita's voice had a kind tone of forbearance in it.

The cool air that met Horatio in the next room was too familiar. He had been to the medical exam room below the lab building too often not to recognize it. The resemblance to the ME's domain in Miami, however, ended there. Instead of the multi armed light setup there were two bare bulbs hanging under metal cones. Instead of multiple tables with hoses and water connections there was a single table and two buckets of water. No digital scales, just a clock face scale with a tray suspended from three small chains that had apparently been rescued from a market. Horatio surmised the single locker door led to the 'cold' room.

Standing close to Anita while Suarez took his place on the other side of the table, Horatio prepared himself for anything. He had briefly met Carlos when the two had come to Miami, fleeing El Asesino (actually Anita's husband, Geraldo). Then, the boy had displayed the usual poor choices teens do. In his case, he had meant well, wanted to protect his sister. He knew that Carlos meant the world to Anita especially now.

Anita looked down at the covered table and nodded. Reaching up, Manuel gently pulled the cloth down to reveal only the face. Anita nodded again and then let her chin drop to her chest.

Instinctively, Horatio pulled her toward him and felt her melt against his chest, felt her hot tears leak through the thin material of his gray t-shirt.

And then, just as quickly, it was over. She stood straight and said calmly, "Have you determined the cause of death?"

"Not exactly. He was stabbed at least ten times. From I have observed so far, three of the wounds could have been deep enough in places that would have killed him. I'll know more later after a more thorough exam."

Horatio took a step back, feeling like he was listening to private information. Part of his mind marveled at how much of what he heard, even in a foreign language were the same words and phrases he'd heard from Alexx and Tom; speculation, 'know more later'.

Anita turned to him. "Horatio, any thoughts?"

"I know you haven't had much opportunity to examine the wounds closely, but would you say there were one or perhaps more attackers involved here?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow as he considered the question. He then raised the cloth so that neither Horatio nor Anita could see the body. After about half a minute he lowered the material and shrugged. "I can't be sure, perhaps so. I'll look into it."

Anita frowned and then ordered, "Call me when you have finished your job, Manuel. If you can determine it, I want depth, size, shape and even the make and model of the knives if you can find them." Her voice was sharp and determined as if by power alone, she could force the doctor to reveal who and why as well as how. She turned and quickly walked out of the room.

A few moments later, in Anita's car brought them to a quick halt at the entrance of a dusty alley. On the way, Anita had made a call. The deputy was standing at attention at the narrow entrance.

"Horatio, this is my chief deputy, Jorge Puenza. Jorge, this is a police lieutenant from Miami and a good friend. I have asked him to help."

Puenza touched his cap and nodded.

"Where was he found?"

The path between the buildings was cluttered with large dumpsters, piles of wood and cardboard boxes, even broken chairs. With any number of places to hide, it would have been easy to lure the boy in one end without him being aware of what was to come. Then all the killers had to do was cut the ends of the passage off.

While Anita walked woodenly into the alley, Horatio stood on the narrow sidewalk for a moment. Of the two businesses on either side, one was a leather goods and repair shop. Through the window he could see heavy straps and harnesses hanging on the wall. Here leather meant simple donkey cart or oxen hitches and straps to repair them.

The business on the other side of the alley was a small honey shop. A few jars with honey and chunks of comb were on display in the picture window surrounded by wreaths of dried flowers. Looming beside it was a large warehouse stretching to the end of the block.

Horatio was unaware that he leaned his head to one side and played with the ears pieces of his dark glasses as he considered the overall picture of the alley entrance.

"Horatio, are you coming?"

Straightening, he nodded slightly at the remark and walked slowly into the shaded side letting his eyes adjust to difference in brightness. Supposing that Anita had taken an inventory of the area as she entered, Horatio knew that a second look never hurt. The question was, in an alley where junk was tossed without thought, what shouldn't be here?

Reaching the taped off area, Horatio looked forward and noticed that the end of the alley was actually another alley that crossed this one to form a T.

Puenza had led the sheriff to an area just before where other alley crossed. Advantage had been taken of the various pieces of castoffs which made posts for hanging the ubiquitous yellow police tape. Inside the tape, near the wall, was the telltale dark pool of blood.

Anita stood on the outside of the tape for several minutes. At first, Horatio thought she had frozen, unable to deal with this tragedy in her life. Indeed, in the states, if this was him and Kyle had been killed, he wouldn't be here. Police officers were not allowed to deal with crimes involving their own families. In a small town, in Mexico, well, that was different. He took it upon himself to go to another point outside of the taped area and see what he could see. He glanced over at Anita and saw she was not frozen in the least. Her eyes were scanning the area, moving foot by foot. She was looking for clues before going in.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Calleigh had just finished noting that of the thirteen bullets recovered from the scene, the three that killed Pete Malovasic were all from the same gun, the three recovered from Miriam Malovasic were from one different gun and then the rest, from Tad and the pool around him, were from yet third and fourth guns. That meant there had been four shooters.

"Lieutenant Duquesne?"

No matter how often she had given Travers permission to call her by her first name or leave off the rank, he often slipped into the safe haven of ultra-strict social rules. Her rise from Detective to Lieutenant still didn't ring right in her ears.

"Yes, Travers?"

"Just to let you know, I didn't get anything on the fingerprints from the doorbell or the doorknob."

"Okay, at least that's one lead down. Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

The stiff upper lip disappeared into a bright smile. "Bright and early."

Before she left work, she put the bullet markings into a search in the bullet database (IBIS). She would be much surprised to find a match in the morning. There were hundreds of thousands of bullets listed and it could very well take up to three, even five days to come up with one match much less four.

After Frank's assurance that he would leave work in about half an hour, Calleigh went shopping before heading home. Bringing the groceries into the kitchen from the garage, she was greeted by ten month old Frank Jr. in his pajamas proudly showing off a wobbly walk as each hand held onto Lupe's fingers. His joy at his accomplishment was beyond measure.

"Oh, look at you!" Calleigh exclaimed. "When did you start that?"

Lupe answered, "It seemed to be his own idea just today. He wanted to hold my fingers as he faced me. When I got behind him and showed how he could stand, he straightaway tried to walk. We have been practicing all day."

Calleigh scooped her child up into her arms and blew into his neck sending him into squealing giggles. "You are such a wonder."

She turned to Lupe. "Frank said he'd be home soon. Do you think our little guy would be able to stay up long enough to show off to Daddy?"

The baby answered with a huge yawn.

"I'll see if he can do it. If not, maybe tomorrow." Lupe gazed at baby Frank almost as tenderly as his mother.

Just at that moment, the two women heard the hum of the automatic garage door opener. Calleigh backed up and put her baby's feet on the floor and let him hold her fingers. Giving a little bounce to his knees, he seemed to know what to do and was ready.

As soon as the door opened, the little tyke's face beamed and his chubby little legs carefully stepped one in front of the other.

Frank Sr. stood speechless, watching his son walk. As soon as his boy was barely a foot away, he went down on one knee and whispered, "Let him go Cal." He reached out his arms.

Without the support, the baby boy fell more than walked into his daddy's arms but from the look on his face, any one would have thought he had just scaled the summit of Mount Everest. Who was to say who was more proud of the accomplishment that day?

Once he got his pats and praise, once he had burrowed in sheer happiness into his father's neck, the child reared back with another great yawn and suddenly seemed to fade.

Lupe, knowing the signs, took her charge with no objection on his part. Looking over her shoulder, his sleepy eyes bade his parents a good night.

After Lupe had departed and the dinner things were cleared and washed, the two took up their positions on Calleigh's old couch. They had kept meaning to buy furniture for the new large house but somehow, it hadn't happened yet. Frank stretched out his legs with his size thirteen shoes on the glass topped coffee table and Calleigh was curled up beside him.

After marveling over their child's accomplishment, and wondering if little Jake was making the same progress, they idled over what details of the case they had come up with.

"For sure, there are whole chunks of information that are missing right now. How did they get that house? Why weren't the security cameras turned on? Who was after them and why?"

"Did Wolfe and Delko find anything on the computer?"

"I guess not. There aren't any names mentioned in the case files they found. No doubt there is some sort of way he put things that meant something to him. I think they are looking for that."

And did the bookkeeper come up with anything?"

"Ian? Only that he couldn't find the records for the sale of the house yet. He has to do some more records research."

"How about that diary?"

Calleigh grinned slyly. "Well, I thought of bringing it home. You know, for some bedtime reading."

"But?" Frank could only hope he knew what came next.

"But then I thought you and I might do something worth putting into a diary."

Frank turned and looked down into Calleigh's face. "Love, I think I can arrange something that you wouldn't dare put into a diary."

Calleigh snickered and quickly headed up the stairs.

She was upstairs and undressing to get into the shower when she heard the heavy clumping sounds. She raced to the hall door and whispered frantically, "Frank! Don't wake the baby!"

Making a face to acknowledge his remiss, Frank hurried to remove his shoes.

Calleigh had just stepped into the warm shower stall when she was joined by her husband.

"I checked. Kid's out like a light. I guess practicing for his big show this evening tuckered him out." Frank hugged his wife.

"I see your little guy isn't tuckered out in the least."

Leaning down and kissing his wife's lips, cheeks, neck and nearly bending double to enjoy her breasts, he mumbled, "Far from it."

Giving each other teasing washes, slowly working the suds into intimate parts, taking the separate shower head and rinsing those parts, checking with stroking hands to make sure there was no residue, they stepped out of the stall and toweled each other off.

What Calleigh liked most about Frank's love making even after more than four years was that he never just dove in. He always started by admiring her in the most worshipful fashion as if he were in love for the first time. He would stare at her body like he was looking at a wondrous work of art. Slowly, hesitantly, one hand would reach out to touch, checking to see if she was real, if what he was seeing truly existed.

It always excited Calleigh to make the bolder advance on her giant husband, snuggling her breasts up to his chest, grabbing his face and kissing him. He seemed glad for the release from his role as acolyte and would respond by taking his woman into a bear hug and return her kisses as fervently as she gave them.

It was when she didn't have to entice him, when he used his size and a bit of his strength to pull her, move her, probe her that she felt she could give in and enjoy the moment. He never went too far, she never had to caution him, not after all of this time. His touch, instead, excited her to her core. He had learned all of her pleasure places and knew how to play them like a musical instrument.

Finally, with a low growl, Calleigh pushed Frank off of her onto his back. She straddled him in one quick movement took his erection and put it between her legs. Almost always by this time, she lost track of exactly what happened. All she was aware of afterwards was the blind rush to gain self-satisfaction at the cost of this man she rode, Valkyrie-like, determined to get to Valhalla or know the reason why.

Then, if Frank had not already reached his own Nirvana, he would grab her hips and grind her onto his twisting hips until he did.

Only then would Calleigh collapse, breathless, onto his chest, telling Frank he was the best lover in the world.

Drifting into a light sleep, Frank was quite ready to agree.

The next morning, Calleigh yawned as she sat hunched over the diary on her desk. She had a grasp on her coffee mug that would have crushed a paper cup. Although she often followed Horatio closely in his early hour arrivals, she never quite beat him. Now, she felt as though she had to at least get in before the rest of the team and it was rough. Her romp with Frank the night before hadn't helped any.

Worse, figuring out the teen's version of handwriting was hard going. Not only was his handwriting bad, he used peculiar signs for words such as the 'at' sign ( ) to mean 'with', the 'greater than' sign () for 'go to' and the hash sign (/) for 'and'. She was just grateful that the larger words were spelled out completely if incorrectly. Wondering if he used the same kind of shorthand in texting, she made a note to interview his friends.

"Juicy reading?"

Calleigh turned to answer Walter.

"Why Walter, I didn't know you'd be interested in a boy's diary."

Walter's dark face spread with his child like grin. "Me? Nah, but I remember I had all kinds of fun reading my sister's diary. Why wouldn't a girl like reading a boy's private thoughts?"

"I'm just getting into it. He used all kinds of symbols to stand for words. I still don't get why a diary."

Walter leaned his huge body onto the table supported by his arms. He turned his dark face up to look into Calleigh's. "Well, more boys than you know write down their private thoughts. People think it all goes online or onto the computer but kids aren't all that dumb. Unless you're rich enough to have more than one laptop, you aren't likely to hide the one with the private thoughts file and most kids know they don't know how to hide files deep enough where they can't be found. They also know that online isn't private by a long shot. So, kids go old school, notebooks, even diaries."

Calleigh considered Walter's words. "I suppose you kept a notebook?"

Walter's head bobbed along with part of his body as he remembered. "Big, black and didn't want to be a football player in Louisiana? Even in the eighth grade the other kids made fun of me. The gym teacher tried to shame me by wanting me to do the rope climb exercise. Yeah, right. I don't think I ever got off the ground. He couldn't imagine a big kid having a brain and no sports abilities."

"So you wrote it out?"

Nodding, Walter continued. "I was finally rescued in eleventh grade by my chem teacher. He was almost as big as me. My grades were falling off and he blew his stack when I told him I was considering going into sports, that it was just easier. The next day the principal called me into his office. He told me I would only be spending two days a week in gym and get the extra three hours a week in the science lab. I never knew what the teacher did but I ran track two days a week and never heard another word about football."

"Was that the end of your notebooks?"

Walter's head shot up, "Are you kidding? I still had girl trouble, kids making fun of me because of my size, and the occasional red neck from out of the Bayou who just had to pick on the big fella."

"So, that means you're still writing?"

The large man stood up and looked down at the pert blond. "Calleigh, you will never know. I do know most of what I wrote was the same teen angst that we all went through. I just hope you'll read it with more care than I read my sister's diary." With that, he sauntered off.

Calleigh thought about Walter's words. Her thoughts went to those precious secret words she had written so long ago. She had been torn up by her father's alcoholism, her mother's anger toward him, and the divorce, to say nothing of her own view of her life. She was pretty, a cheerleader, got good grades and yet it always felt like someone would find her out; find out she had to study very hard to get her grades, worked at looking pretty, and wasn't happy all of the time. She thought she was the only person in the world with such problems. Yes, this diary had no doubt been very precious to Tad.

The ring from her phone reminded her it was time to take a break. "Ian, what's the word?"

Words came tumbling out like blocks from a can. "Calleigh, bird's the word, that's what. A real estate broker named Theodore Thrush to be exact. Once the house went into foreclosure for lack of tax payments, it was handed over to Thrush. He sold it to a shell corporation that is connected to a corporation that is…well, you get the idea. I'm about half way through the trail of where this goes. I have a feeling the ownership is in the Caymans or the Bahamas or something like that."

"It just can't be simple, can it?"

"What would be the fun in that?"

"Thank you for the work Ian. I'll be waiting to see what you come up with."

"You are most welcome. I'll try to get the info quickly."

Ending the call, Calleigh stepped down from the stool she had perched on and went in search of Ryan. Passing the lunch room, her attention was caught by an inelegant burp. She peeped in to see Ryan dropping a peach seed into the trash as he wiped his face. "That sounded good."

"I got up a little late so I grabbed that. Yeah, good and messy."

"Hey, did you find anything on that computer?"

"We turned it over to Vince. After a point, the files were all encrypted."

"Good, I think your time can be better spent anyway on finding out about the previous owners of the house. Ian found records of the names but I think there's more to it. Would you see what you and Walter can dig up?"

"Will do."

A few minutes later, she found Eric. "We have something to do. First we need to get Tad's phone out of the evidence locker and go through his contacts. Then we need to go out and interview as many of the friends as we can."

"Sure. What will we be looking for?"

"Mostly the meaning to some of the abbreviations he had in his diary. I don't know if it might be a wild goose chase or not. Then too, maybe to find out if he said anything to his friends that would indicate who would do this to him."

The task of interviewing Tad's friends was a little more difficult than they anticipated. Although not new to Miami, the family had moved to a different neighborhood and Tad had changed schools. More, what friends he did have were from all over town and were based on the swimming classes he took.

The two detectives decided to start their day by interviewing the swimming coach.

When Montayo deWilliams heard the news, his tall, slim figure sagged onto a bench. He took a towel and mopped the pool water from his dark face. The sun danced in the sparkles of water on his black hair. "Aw no! Not that boy! How could that happen? He finally had a chance what with his family able to pay for the training."

"Do you know how his family was suddenly able to afford the extra swim lessons and more of your time?" Eric asked.

"No, never knew. Mr. Malovasic just came in one day and asked what it would take to improve Tad's swimming and if it would be worth it."

"Worth it?"

"I guess he was willing to spend the money if there was any brag returns like medals or trophies. Coaching and lessons are pricey in any sport and if the kid doesn't have the ability, why spend the money?"

"Did you really think Tad had a chance?"

"You bet. When he tried, he could crawl through water like he was skating on top of it. He didn't have any strength or endurance but that's where coaching comes in. I think he could have gone to the Olympics in another six years."

"Did he ever say anything about any trouble at home?"

"He hated having to move, he loved the new pool, he was a teenager." Montayo lifted his shoulders and let them drop heavily. "Was there any trouble that would get him shot? No, nothing that I know of."

Calleigh, who had been letting the two men talk stepped forward. "We need to talk to his friends and think some were among the kids he met here."

"Yeah, probably. Once he moved to the new place, if his parents couldn't bring him, he'd get a ride with one of the other kids."

A few minutes later, they had the names and phone numbers that coincided with the ones on Tad's phone.

Calleigh handed the man a card. "If you think of anything, don't hesitate to call."

The coach gravely replied, "I will."

The first of Tad's friends they were able to interview was a boy of about fourteen who was so pale and blond as to appear albino except for the intensely brown eyes. Sitting in a side room off of the principal's office, when he heard the news about his friend's death, his color turned to a reddish pink. His eyes turned to the principal, a small Asian woman, who was acting as guardian. He did not speak, only shook his head.

Calleigh asked as gently as she knew how, "Stephen, did Tad text you very often?"

The boy hesitated as if he was trying to think of the right answer in a test. Finally he replied, "Yeah, a couple of times a day."

"Did you, by any chance save any of the texts?"

"The last one, yeah. Do you think he was sending code or something?"

The boy looked anxiously at the principal who had a fixed, distant look on her face.

Calleigh gave the lad her most winning smile. "Gosh, I hope not. That would really make my job a lot harder. I do know he used a sort of personal code for texting sometimes and we can't figure it out. I thought maybe you could help.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, most kids use things like the number four for 'for' initials for common sentences like L-M-A-O for 'laughing my ass (excuse me) off', you know, stuff like that. Tad took it one step further and used symbols for all the common words."

Calleigh nodded. "I guess that is a kind of code, isn't it? Did you understand all of it?"

Stephen looked at the principal. Her eyes were still averted showing she was there and yet, not there. "Not all. Sometimes he'd use those ac-nym things for sentences that I just didn't get."

"Well, I have a list of some I found he used that I couldn't figure out either. I was hoping maybe you could."

Suddenly the principal, Ms. Nguyen, was there and aware.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Excuse me. What kind of words are we talking about?" There was no sign of her Asian background in her voice.

Calleigh was about to answer when Stephen spoke up. "He never used any bad words Ms. Nguyen. He just hated spelling out common words that didn't have any symbols or common ac..ac.."

"Acronyms, Stephen. Well, as long as you're sure." The petite woman sat back but was no longer as part of the chair she occupied.

Stephen took the sheet of paper and scanned it. "Well, this +/ means 'including' or 'as well as' or 'added to'. The ^ means 'over'." He rolled his eyes as if to say 'Duh'. "He used the back slash (\) for 'than' so ^\ means 'higher than'."

Sitting back he looked up and down the page and shook his head. "I don't know about the rest of these. I only learned about the rest when I was reading them in the other stuff he wrote."

"I sort of noticed that too, that I could 'get' the code in context of the rest of the material."

Stephen handed the paper back. "If I didn't know better I'd say the %&* was a swear word but that just wasn't Tad."

"Maybe it's a name? Did he ever mention names when talking to you?"

"No. He did say something about a cousin coming to stay with them. He never said a name though."

Now it was Eric's turn to speak up. "Did he ever talk about being bullied?" At the same time, his eyes strayed to Ms. Nguyen.

The principal sat passively behind the lad neither smiling nor frowning.

"At the school here? Nah, we have plenty of hall monitors and then the 'compatibility' classes that teach us about why we shouldn't make fun of each other."

Ms. Nguyen's passive face became a mask of inscrutability.

"Do you know of any other kids here that he texted?"

"If he had met anyone else to be that close with, I didn't know about it. He and I hit it right off because our lockers are side by side and I have a picture of Michael Phelps in mine."

"You like swimming?"

"I used to but I tore a cuff muscle trying to act like Spiderman." His voice faded at the thought of the casual act that had changed his dreams.

Calleigh stood and was followed by Eric. "Well thank you, Stephen. I want you to take my card and call me anytime if you think of anything else that might help us."

The pale lad stood and took the card. After fingering the edges for a few seconds, he stuck it into his jeans' pocket. "Okay, I will."

When Stephen was gone from the room, Calleigh asked Ms. Nguyen about the compatibility classes.

"I noticed a bit of reaction when Stephen talked about them."

The woman, who was smaller than Calleigh, allowed a tight smile. "The returns for the effort on those classes are small. The kids treat them as having little consequence in their lives." She turned and left.

Outside in the Humvee, the two conferred and concluded they had gotten the straight story.

Next was the only girl on the list from his swim class.

Her school principal was a made up of pure honey-sweet southern orange juice. As soon as the child broke into tears at the news of Tad's death, Ms. White brought a chair beside her and took her into her arms in a sideways hug.

Slowly, through much sniffling and tear wiping, they got the story that Marlene thought of herself as Tad's best friend in the whole world. He was always texting her. Well, he did when he could, every couple of days; he was busy after all.

Looking at the paper of squiggles, she identified one (~) as 'adrift' or 'lost'. "He used that one a lot especially since he had to move."

"Didn't he like his new home?"

"He liked the pool but didn't care so much for the neighborhood. He said there was no one to meet. No one ever was outside doing anything."

The rest of the interview with Tad's peers didn't reveal anything else new. Tad, like so many kids, kept his own counsel on his troubles and his family.

"I guess I get to read his diary. It's not the codes I'm worried about so much as reading the hen scratches he used as handwriting. This is to say nothing of the really bad spelling."

"I'm just glad it's you and not me. I can't imagine what a boy would put down in a diary!"

Calleigh wanted to say something like, 'you'd be surprised', but refrained.

The phone call took her mind from the code breaking project for the moment. "Really? I can hardly wait to hear all about it."

At her urging, Eric dropped her off in front of the lab while he took the car around and to the back to park the car.

Upstairs, she looked for Ryan and Walter and found them in the AV lab.

"Show and tell?"

"And then some," Ryan answered.

Calleigh found a stool with a back and prepared herself to see what the two detectives had found.

Walter began first. "Okay, meet Mr. and Mrs. Liang Woo. Well, by our way of naming, they are actually the Liangs, first names Woo and Shun. Shun was from the Tung family."

Two pictures were put up on the virtual screen.

"Anyway, he was from Chengdu in the Sechuan Province. This is where Pandas are so prevalent you know."

Calleigh nodded resisting the temptation to ask them to speed up the explanation.

"Now, what, besides a real Panda, might be the most valuable thing you could take out of the Sechuan Province?"

Ryan stepped forward before Calleigh could shake her head. "We have no proof because the Chinese don't exactly make their Panda breeding programs an open book but we think old Woo there might well have smuggled some Panda sperm out of the country."

"Why do you think that? He couldn't have sold it in the US what with all of the regulations on zoos and all."

Ryan put a finger up. "He didn't go directly to the US. He did go to Norway, Svalbard to be exact."

"Isn't that where there a super seed bank is?"

"Apparently a smaller and less well known branch of the seed bank is a sperm bank and a fertilized egg bank for every known creature on earth."

"I didn't know that was possible."

Walter answered, "The Biotechs don't necessarily know it's possible either but what good will a billion billion seeds do if there's not enough people to sew them or animals to produce manure? Whatever is left of human kind won't be enough to do the job on their own. If the sperm/egg bank works, that will mean a quicker come back for Earth in the event of a disaster."

"So they buy sperm?"

"If that's what it takes I guess. I don't know the details and probably don't want to. Anyway, Woo left China using the last penny he had to buy plane fare and left Norway with quite a bit more."

"How much more?"

Ryan shook his head, "Not sure, but when he got to the US, he had enough to buy up some cheap jeans, slap 'Lee' labels on the right fanny pocket and then sell them in Europe for twice what he paid. Then, in Europe, he bought up some fake Louis Vuitton shoes. If they have red soles, they must be real, right? He brought them to America and sold them for three times what he bought them for."

Walter continued. "And so it went. After a few years, he got married to an American Chinese girl and hired her family to run different parts of the growing empire, from little street stalls selling knockoffs, to runners who accompanied shipments to Europe and Australia."

"Then he branched out to Africa who wanted guns for diamonds. So, Mr. Liang found a cheap manufacturer who was able to produce about five thousand guns in one go. He had them packed up and personally accompanied the shipment to the destination. He brought a diamond appraiser as well. The appraiser said they were good, the guns were handed over and Woo came home.

"He was so happy with the idea of having guns made, he ordered up two thousand more. What he didn't know was that many of the guns in the second order were faulty. They blew off the hands, even the faces of about fifty Africans."

Calleigh said, "So the Liangs had to run from some Africans?"

Ryan took the explanation down the final path. "Oddly, no. The Africans that got the guns had a really bad civil flare-up and are still trying to control that. Unfortunately, Woo had already ordered another two thousand guns then had no market. True businessman that he was he found one. Guess what it was? Guess closer to home."

Calleigh's face showed her disbelief. "Oh, no, not gangs."

Walter, leaning his bulk against a counter, posited, "Now, can you imagine how the gangs felt about their guns exploding, hurting themselves, to say nothing of their brothers?"

"And the Liangs fled?"

"Wouldn't you? Yeah, about five months ago. It didn't take long for the state to get uncomfortable with lack of property tax revenue. They decided in about two months the home was abandoned and swooped in and put the house up for sale."

"And the Liangs went to San Diego, right?"

"They have about six levels of security between them and the ground in a two level condo on the sixteenth and seventeenth floors. They send out for everything including toothpaste."

"All Ian has been able to find out is the house got sold to a shell corp that sold to another shell and so on. He says it'll be a while before he can figure it all out."

The three team members fell silent. Each was examining a different part of the case, looking for something he or she might have overlooked the first time.

A voice broke their reverie. "Looks like Zen time. Can I join in?"

"Hey Vince, it's only Zen if we can figure out where to go on this case."

Vince answered with a smile, "Oh well I think I can help. I got through part of the encryption on the Malovasic computer. I think you'll all find it very interesting."

A moment later, they were pulling up page after page of notes from Malovasic's case files. Most were old records of payments and receipts and so were uninteresting. One, however, was a report in which an object was handed over to Malovasic's subject which then somehow ended up with him being able to rent his new home for next to nothing plus a large payday to what appeared to be an offshore account.

"So, now we know how he got the house. That object must have been spectacular."

Calleigh looked at Walter seriously. "We're still not clear on who this was or how he came to the house or the money. We still have plenty of work to do."

Ryan had meanwhile been brushing through the files until he found what looked to be notes that Malovasic had made to himself. "Is Jaime coming? When?"

Calleigh pulled out her phone and called. "Eric? We have a name connected with Malovasic. All we have is Jaime. He was expected to maybe arrive from possibly another city, state or even country."

After a pause she replied, "I know it's not much to go on but more than we had before. We're still looking."

The rest of the notes were about appointments to go furniture shopping, setting up the security cameras 'sometime', hiring a pool man and other mundane things that rich people in new houses go through.

Vince, who had been working on another computer in a corner of the AV lab suddenly crowed out an 'Ah-ha!'

Pulling out the thumb drive and rushing to the computer the team was hovered around, he muscled his way through and shoved in the small drive. "I broke through the last encryption. He had tried to erase the file several times so I had to run a grave digger program. Being Word Pad most of it got overwritten but there's enough left to be more than interesting. Take a look."

Ryan was first to drop his gaze and rub his eyes. Even though his sight was as good as it ever was since he'd been shot in eye with a nail gun, his eyes tired at the least excuse.

Walter looked at him in sympathy, tried to go back to the lines of signs and symbols interspersed with an occasional letter, word or even string of words and finally turned with a mock growl.

"Wait, here, let me show you where it is." Vince scrolled the mess down to about the middle of the script and then highlighted a collection of real words which read, 'to Parrot Grove Apartments and found a mock safe house. *&&^%))((&&%$#&^^%$% them to close the deal.'

Calleigh nearly screamed out, "Parrot Grove? That's them, that's the Braillsson's then. That's where we thought they were hiding with Jake!"

Ryan and Walter ran to either side of the blonde to read as well as to bolster the woman.

"Remember when we were speculating that someone was helping them and we thought it could be a guy acquainted with WitSec type practices?" Walter asked.

Both shook their heads negatively, honestly not remembering.

"Anyway, we were right. Malovasic used to be with the CIA Witness Protection program."

"Which means?" Ryan raised his head to look at the tallest member on the team. Although five feet eleven inches tall, Ryan was not short but was still the shortest man on the team.

Calleigh recovering from her shock inserted, "This means, guys, that now we know how to think about how and where the Braillssons were being hidden. Federal agents in charge of the WitSec program have a particular view of life and a form to discharging their duties. We just have to read up on how they do what they do."

From a distance, a faint bell tone sounded once and again.

Calleigh nodded to Ryan and to Walter, "You know what you need to do. I have a bullet or two calling my name."

The bell was the IBIS program signaling it had run through every possible bullet and marking in the database. Just as she hoped, the bullets used on Pete Malovasic and his wife, plus four found in the pool and one in Tad were from guns known to have been used in previous crimes. That left one gun new on the crime scene. Was it one that could blow up? How wide spread were those guns? Well, at least now she had more answers in that region and she had added one more bullet to the database.

The next question was about the fingerprints. The culprits had not touched anything in the house except for the doorbell and the outside doorknob. Travers hadn't found any matches through AFIS but there were more databases on fingerprints than almost any other kind. Calleigh just had to figure out the most likely place to look given the circumstances of the crime. She decided on the Immigration and Customs Enforcement, ICE, information. By the time her prints had run through that, she hoped to have better ideas of what to look for.

Deciding on Horatio's office as the best place for her next task, she found an old style paper notebook and went up the short flight of stairs. To her, the office always seemed to be a glacial top aerie made of cool transparency. She bet Horatio didn't think in those terms. He had spent too many hours toiling away at paperwork, having to listen to brass hats who visited tell him how to do his job more efficiently and who knows what. Well, for the moment, it would be her place of peace and quiet.

Settling in the large desk chair, she opened the diary and laid it flat on the Lucite desk top. Then she pulled out the paper containing the symbols and what translations she had. Next she set up the notebook for easy writing and spent the next forty minutes reading through the 'sturm und drang' of a normal boy in his early teen years.

Most of it was as heartbreakingly as the diaries of girls, the everyday thoughts, the slights from friends, the horrid overbearingness of parents. Occasionally, there was a window into the family life, and on these, she made notes. She wondered if the parents were aware of how grateful Tad was for the pool and the extra coaching time.

Finally, a bit of information leaped out and she pulled her phone out again.

"Eric, more information on Jaime. He's Tad's cousin and lives in Mexico. Apparently he was getting into some trouble and Mr. Malovasic was going to bring him into the states for a visit."

She heard Eric ask, "Where in Mexico?"

"He doesn't say. I bet though that Mr. Malovasic would have looked at airline prices. Could you get Vince to comb through any internet stuff?"

"Hey, I can see you up there. You too high and mighty to do it?"

Calleigh paused and looked about at the floor below. She found Eric in his lab looking wavy and hazy through several layers of glass. He was grinning at her.

She raised her hand and smiled back. "I'm still working on the diary. I'd have to come down to use a computer and you're already down on the floor."

Eric gave her a mock salute. "Okay, Cal, I was just kidding. You're the boss and I'm happy to obey orders. Internet searches for airline tickets out of Mexico, got it."

Three pages later, the name Mala Noche popped out from the pages. Tad had received an email from his cousin apparently saying he thought he might have an 'in' to the dangerous organization. Tad wrote, 'I told him not to. I know he won't listen.' His next sentence was very telling; 'Yeah, who am I to talk?'

That unfortunately didn't pin down the cousin's location. The Mala Noche gangs were ubiquitous throughout the western hemisphere and Mexico was easy pickings for that ruthless pack.

Most notable was that Tad never mentioned what his father did to get the house. He seemed to take it as a matter of course that they moved from a middle class three bedroom home in West Little River to a five bedroom mansion in South Miami.

Calleigh knew that she never questioned what her father did for a living until she was in college. She knew vaguely that he was a lawyer but could not describe his job. Most kids just accept that Daddy 'works'. The writing in the diary showed Tad was bright and even if he didn't ask his father directly, surely he would wonder how this could be. Was there something he didn't dare voice?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Of course, there were no bullet casings, no bullet marks on the walls. The boy had been stabbed. Still Horatio's eyes wandered the rough bricks, looking for anything that might look pertinent to the scene, or out of place to the scene.

Returning to the alley opening he asked officer Puenza if murder by stabbing was common in this area.

"No señor. Most are shot. Guns are more easy, I think, to come by than in America."

Thanking the man, Horatio returned to the taped area and then went further on. The building that formed the alley at the top of this alley was perhaps some sort of ware house, covering the entire block from street to street. Only a few doors in the back broke the façade.

Anita called over her shoulder, "That is where the wineries bring their cases of bottled wine, Horatio. From here it goes all over Mexico and some to other countries."

Horatio nodded silently taking it all in. This alley part was wider to accommodate trucks that would unload at various bays along the back of the shipping warehouse. The streets beyond, at the moment, were quiet.

Going back to the space set apart from the rest of the alley in yellow tape, Horatio asked, "Why stabbed? Why not shot?"

Anita looked up and swallowed hard. She was having a hard time dealing with sorting facts from her emotions. "The only thing that comes to mind is that the clinica dealt with four interesting injuries in the last six months that had to do with guns. Apparently the guns malfunctioned. One man was transported to a hospital in Mexico City with severe injuries to his face. Others are missing fingers. Maybe these killers decided knives were a better choice for now?"

Horatio couldn't have agreed more. Until he knew more, he decided not to mention his opinions, he merely nodded. "Where do the guns come from? Who has them?"

Bending down under the tape and coming out to the general alley area, Anita seemed glad to answer questions rather than deal with her little brother's death. "The same people as in the States have guns here. The honest guns are in the hands of farmers who have to guard against wild animals and outlaws. The majority of guns are in the hands of criminals, gangs."

"Who got injured? The good guys or the bad?"

Anita smiled ruefully, "The bad. Every one had a long rap sheet. Of course, they all claimed to have merely been shooting at bottles or cans when they got hurt."

Horatio smiled again as he looked into the distance at nothing in particular. "And the guns were borrowed from a friend who had a cousin's uncle who let them use it."

"Something like that."

"Okay, so the latest shipment of illegal guns is a bad one. This means they are changing tactics for a while."

"Which still doesn't answer the question of who did this? I told you Carlos had gotten into the wrong crowd. I just thought it was kids who got no further than a little petty theft. I figured when he was caught I'd put him in a cell, have him do some community service, you know?"

"Now we know he was in a little deeper than that. Do you have any informants?"

Anita sighed heavily. "I do. We'll have to wait until tonight though. I'll send a message about time and place."

She pulled out her phone. After a brief conversation in which she told someone to tell Cosine to meet her at number four at nine-twenty, she hung up. "We gave numbers to different places. Her friend thinks she is meeting a lover and wouldn't tell on her for anything."

"I guess the days of every young girl having a dueña are gone?"

Anita looked at the man as if seeing him for the first time. He had seemed so comfortable with the Latin lifestyles, surely he wasn't that old fashioned? Only when she saw the twinkle in his eyes did she realize she was being put on. She had almost asked the man how old he really was.

"I'll be right back. I have to get my camera."

Horatio was only almost surprised when he saw the tiny, inexpensive digital camera dangling from its cord. Of course! Her office could hardly afford her and two officers much less forensic equipment. Digital cameras were at least a leap in technology that could play a huge role in any investigation.

Finally, the two drove off.

"I have a friend in the force in Mexico City. When I get to the office, I'm going to call and see what he knows about guns coming into the country."

Horatio suddenly found himself wondering what he would do with himself while Anita was 'working'. The shoe was most definitely on the other foot. Worse, he had no place to go.

Just before turning the corner of the dusty street where the sheriff's office sat, Horatio saw a small restaurant. When the car was parked, Horatio called out, "Hey, are you hungry? How's that restaurant over there?"

Anita gave a disinterested shrug. "Yeah, I could eat. Only, let me call Tia Mirabel. If she's up to it, she can bring us something. Her cooking is far better than any restorante here."

Acquiescing, feeling somewhat at a loss for something to do, Horatio pulled his bag from Anita's car and then dug out his 'go to' when he had some free time, a book of a collection of Greek plays. This time, he chose Euripides' 'The Cyclops' for its light hearted play on words and unsubtle gay sexual connotations. Although the murders of a few of Odysseus' crew were gruesome, they were quickly over with and the rest of the play was wonderfully ridiculous. Other times he was inclined to read the tragedies as a means to directing his mind in the linear paths required for solving the crimes. Now that he was merely along for the ride, he could enjoy the moment.

The moment was short lived. About half an hour after she was called, Anita's aunt came with a basket in her arms. Barely setting it down, she fell weeping into Anita's arms. Anita comforted the lady for a while, hugging her head close and allowing the tears to fall on her breasts. She whispered over and over, "I know, I know." Finally, when there seemed to be a break, she resolutely pulled herself up.

"Dear Aunty, I'm so sorry, I have some things to do. It might help to catch the ones who killed Carlos," she explained."

She then pointed at Horatio and introduced him.

Mirabel shyly said she didn't speak English but Horatio stood and gently took her hand and said in Spanish, "I am so sorry for your loss. I met Carlos and he seemed like a fine boy."

Mirabel answered by taking his hand to her teary cheek and thanking him for his kindness.

Anita then asked her aunt to start laying out the lunch and went to her desk.

Mirabel was glad to have Horatio's ear while as she dished out bits of pulled pork in a light cheese sauce and wrapped them in flour tortillas. The side dish of a mix of fresh apples, oranges and strawberries was the perfect accompaniment.

After taking an appreciative bite of the fajita and listening to Mirabel's tearful comments on how good Carlos was, Horatio handed her another tissue from a nearby box and asked, "Señora, may I ask if you knew any of Carlos' friends? The ones your niece was worried about?"

Mirabel's face went dark. "Only that Anita was worried about them. If she was, then I know they were garbage! Why that boy would bother with them, I don't know."

Apparently the kid kept his questionable acquaintances far from the family home. This was often normal for teens who were dabbling with the darker sides of life. The pull of these dangerous friendships was strong even when they knew it was wrong.

Anita approached the table and nodded with a knowing look at Horatio signaling she had gotten the information she hoped for. She kept her silence while she ate with one hand, and held onto the still snuffling Mirabel's hand with the other.

Being a small meal, they made quick work of it after which Anita rose and hugged her aunt. "Mirabel! This was so good, wasn't it Horatio?"

Somehow, Anita's effusion didn't ring right in Horatio's ears. He nodded with a questioning

"Horatio, would you like to come for dinner tonight? With a little more warning, I think you will find Mexican country cooking a surprising delight."

He didn't know where this was going or why, but he decided to play along. "If it isn't too much trouble?" He directed the remark to Mirabel. Immediately he saw her light up as the wheels in her head began to turn.

"Oh, no trouble. Tonight I will have a dinner ready fit for El Presidente of Mexico himself."

In no time, Mirabel had picked up the dishes, put them all into the basket and trotted herself out the door.

Brushing her hands off as soon as the door closed, Anita nodded as she said, "I'm sorry I used you like that. I needed for her to leave and planning a dinner for a guest works almost every time. I would love to comfort her, but she has a dozen friends to help her and I have work to do."

"I gather you got something on that phone call?"

"I did. We're not the only area to have faulty guns coming in. There have been injuries reported in a roughly sixty mile radius around Mexico City."

"And who?"

Anita's brows fell into a tangle over her nose. "Mala Noche."

The blue eyes clouded over at the sound of the name.

Suddenly Anita turned, "Horatio, would you please be a guest at my house? We have always kept two spare rooms for visitors so you won't be imposing. I mean, if you would consider staying at all, of course." This last was hastily added on.

Horatio's shoulders expanded and fell into place. "I would be happy to be of any help I can."

"If you're serious about this, I'm going to issue you a gun."

Horatio had not expected her to take his invitation this far. Not that he saw events as going to the extent of needing a weapon, but, well, one never knew."

"How about an ankle gun? The hair gets enough attention without showing a gun too."

Anita removed some keys from her belt and headed into her office to heavy metal safe. It proved to be a gun vault with more than twenty guns plus a few holsters and belts. Finally she found an ankle holster, a small revolver, and some bullets.

On the way to her house, she apologized. "Sorry for the registration and all. The officials over me would get really unhappy to find you with one my guns and it wasn't in the book."

Horatio decided not to tell her what it would take for her to get a gun from the MDPD.

Later, in the beautifully appointed bedroom Anita was showing him, Horatio asked, "Are the hotels here really that bad?"

"Hardly. We have very fine hotels to accommodate wine connoisseurs from all over the world. However, not to invite you to stay here when we have more than enough room would be bad manners. Also, it is less likely that people will notice your comings and goings."

Horatio had suspected that would be the answer but the confirmation was good to hear.

After the usual siesta, cut short because of the pressing business, Horatio found he was being driven to the clinica again.

"Manuel, that was quick work."

Dr. Suarez smiled ruefully, "I never told you before Sheriff, I did my internship at an ER in the worst part of Tijuana. I saw every kind of injury from guns to broken bottles. Then when I studied medical forensics my best teacher had specialized in piercing deaths."

"Alright, what did you find?"

Not showing empathy for what Anita might have been feeling, the doctor explained, "At least three different knives and three different assailants. One was inexperienced and didn't know how hard it is to penetrate skin and muscle to make a stab count. Thus, I had about four little wounds that would have meant nothing by themselves. The next two blades were viciously used and the wielders pretty much knew what they were doing. Carlos bled out within ten minutes."

"Anything in particular about the blades, doctor?" Horatio didn't notice his voice took on the whispery quality he used when working.

"The light wounds were probably caused by a small shank type of knife, something homemade. One of the others was something like a hunting knife, serrated on top above the point and the last was some sort of dagger with a very narrow blade. It was rusty too."

Anita's face had gone blank during the description. When the doctor fell silent, she came alert and said, "Alright, Doctor, thank you for your speed."

Back in the car, Horatio patiently waited for Anita to deal with the ugly news. He knew the feeling all too well. He wished he could help, but he also knew he was powerless to do so, gun at his ankle or no. He was a stranger in a strange land and had to mind his p's and q's.

Finally the woman took a deep, shuddering breath. "Are you having fun yet, Horatio?"

"I wish I could do more, I really do."

"My friend, be careful what you wish for."

That evening, after a quick finish to Mirabel's excellent dinner, the two headed out for the appointment with Cosine.

Anita drove out of the small town for about half a mile and then parked her car. From there, she trudged off into the darkness, leaving Horatio alone. Earlier, in the car, she had said, "She is risking her life just meeting with me. She's seriously involved with a Mala Noche member and keeps hoping he'll go straight. I tell her to just get out now while she's living."

"And she says 'But I love him'."

Anita gave Horatio a long look before answering, "Just as I did with Geraldo."

Before he could find an answer, she had gotten out of the car, crossed the narrow two lane road and disappeared into a grove of trees.

Now, in a quiet that could not be found in Miami, under a night sky that glowed with billions of stars, Horatio was reminded of the nights he had spent on patrol as a blue in New York. His partner often checked out a building and he sat in the car, waiting for an alarm, a shot, anything. The thought drove him to bend down and pull out the revolver. He felt the chambers for the bullets, made sure the safety was on, and laid it carefully in his lap. Although Anita's personal car was equipped with a radio, he wasn't sure he knew how to operate it. Although an old model, it was one after his days in a patrol car.

Once or twice, he thought he heard women's voices but couldn't be sure. Once, for sure, men's voices came near the car and then faded down the road. Another car trundled slowly by, the radio playing a ballad about a man who had lost his love. It was, in fact, the same tune the boy in the café had sung, but this voice was a clear tenor voice worthy of any opera house. Finally, he heard steps approaching and saw Anita's outline.

She thumped herself into the seat and slammed the car door. After a moment, she was able to speak. "Horatio, it's worse than I thought. Carlos was supposed to kill a man. He didn't and that is why he was green-lighted."

"What about the man who was supposed to be the hit?"

"He left the country with the girl friend. Her family is Mala Noche and they disapproved because the guy isn't part of the gang. His death was to prove to everyone that no one outside the family is supposed to take one of their women."

"And failure to accomplish a mark is a death sentence."

Anita's face was empty of hope as she nodded. "The gang always announces what they are going to do and even name who will do it. I bet when my brother failed to kill this other kid, the killers were supposed to go after Carlos and then kill the first one as well.

"Did Cosine name names?"

"Yes, but with no proof, I can't do anything. Also, she said that of the three who killed my brother, two were on their way to the states."

"They're going after the one they had sent Carlos to kill?"

"It's a bigger thing than that. She didn't understand it all. Part was going after the boyfriend, and part was another kind of revenge, one for a bigger reason."

"Did she have any idea where they are all going?"

Anita turned to face Horatio. He couldn't see the expression on her face but he had the feeling she wasn't smiling. "Horatio, women's roles in gangs are to be pretty and keep their men fed. They aren't supposed to worry their heads about business."

"So they say."

He saw the outline of her shoulders rise and fall. "And that is how Cosine and women like her survive."

After a few moments, Horatio asked gently, "Now what?

"Now the funeral for Carlos. Now we hope something turns up sometime. Now life goes on."

She asked if he wanted to return to Mexico City and he asked if he could stay for the funeral. He had known Carlos, if only a little, and felt good byes were due.

Later, in the large home, Anita paused with Horatio at the top of the stairs. Her room was in the opposite direction from his.

"Are you sure about staying? After it's all over, I'm sure I'll need some propping up and Mirabel is going to be a worse mess. That's quite a bit to take on."

"I think I can handle the job. I'm not a stranger to the process."

Anita looked up into the kind eyes and saw a lifetime of deaths and funerals. Forcing a slight smile, without further word, she turned to walk to her bedroom.

Horatio didn't immediately go to sleep that night. Anita would realize soon enough that the case was far from over and when she did, he hoped to have at least one insight as to where to look next. Even though she might not be thinking clearly, he was and more than twelve years of forensic detective work and then more than twenty years of police detective work gave him the ability to take very few clues and see how they led to solutions others just did not see.

Instead of going to bed, he set a chair by the open window, enjoying the cool breeze. La Cancion was at a lower elevation than Mexico City. Here the grapes could soak up the sun and occasionally be bathed in the fogs that drifted down into the little protected valley. This evening, only the residuals of the afternoon sun still fought the cool air that would make the morning chilly. Clad in light pajama bottoms, he stretched out his legs and set his bare feet onto the window sill and stared blankly out at the light cast by the rising moon.

Carefully, he went over the pieces of the puzzle. The picture was that Carlos had been killed by three gang members. Each piece of the brainteaser, however, was a part of the answer as to why he had been killed. The problem was, some of the pieces were missing. The idea that the boy wouldn't have gone to Anita as soon as he had received his orders was strange. Was it perhaps the brief contact with his sister's new husband, a Mala Noche boss in disguise, that had led him astray? Then, there was Cosine's information that of the three who had killed Carlos, two were already gone on gang business. What was that business? That left one unknown subject in town; a piece missing from the puzzle that could possibly be found.

Next was who was Carlos supposed to kill? Whoever it was had failed to get permission to even smile at her from her gang family. Crossing that line meant a target on his back. Apparently the job was beneath a full gang member's notice so they sent a rookie in to do it. Unfortunately, Carlos had a conscience. Who knows, maybe the gang knew this and assigned the job just to have an excuse for two killings. The working of the gang mentality was not straight line thinking.

Then there was the matter of the malfunctioning guns which had led to Carlos being stabbed. They were all around Mexico City making that the hub. Where did they come from? Wait, no, the better question was who had shipped them? The maker question would come later. If he could find out who shipped the guns to the Mala Noche in Mexico City, he would maybe find out where the two went from here. He would bet the man and the girlfriend and the guns were connected.

Cosine wasn't going to divulge who the girl was but maybe Anita knew how to find out. Since the two had left the country, they had passports or got ones faked. Either way, they had left a trail and he hoped Anita would know what methods to use to find it. Hopefully, someone who wasn't practiced at keeping confidences to stay alive, might have heard something about travel plans.

Horatio yawned and got up. Well, nothing was going to happen until after the funeral so he might as well get some sleep.

How wrong he was.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The tiny church was filled and the funeral was simple. At first, Anita seemed ready to prompt him into the rituals of prayer, kneeling and silence. However, when it became obvious that Horatio found it easy to fall into the Catholic sacraments he already knew, she soon forgot anything but her own desire to let Carlos depart to God. The cemetery was two miles from town and the burial ceremony was performed with dignified quiet tones.

At the house, everyone brought a great deal of food, and no one had anything bad to say about Carlos. Horatio played traffic director for the most part, showing women where to put the food, the men where they could smoke, the teenage girls the bathrooms, the boys distant places where they could act foolishly and not bother the mourners, and so on. Anita moved in slow motion, thanking people for their well wishes while Mirabel was the center of a noisy whirlwind of her own grief.

Two hours later, the house was empty and silent. Mirabel had gone up to her room to sleep.

Horatio and Anita sat at a table over coffee. Many of the women had found containers for perishable food and it was now all neatly stacked in the refrigerator or the freezer as Anita had dictated. Though great efforts had been made to clean up, Anita had reached the end of her patience before the job was done. She had shooed them out with profuse thanks saying that if Mirabel didn't have something to do the next day she'd be knocking at their doors in tears bright and early in the morning. Many seemed to take her seriously.

"Well, it's over. How are you holding up?"

"Not great, but I'll live. God! Losing my brother is so awful. Horatio, how do parents stand up losing their children?" Her eyes welled up with tears.

A surge of gray washed over his expression as the heavy brows fell. "They do, Anita. I don't know how, but they do."

Quickly wiping the tears away, she said, "I thought I was all cried out." Then she smiled. "I'm sure you didn't notice, but the lady we used to live next door to when Carlos was about five was just raving how she loved him. The thing was, she did nothing but yell at him and complain when we were kids. She even called the police a couple of times."

Horatio was surprised to hear his phone. Then he remembered he had turned it on when he had met Anita in the city and just kept it on. Today, out of habit, he had slipped it into his shirt pocket.

He took it out and saw it was Calleigh. "Excuse me Anita. I'll be right back."

He was surprised to hear the familiar voice. "Calleigh, it's good to hear from you."

"I was surprised you picked up. I have called a few times but it always went to voice mail. Are you so bored already you turned on your phone hoping for a wrong number?"

"Hardly that. Actually, I'm working on a case."

Ten minutes later, he had her filled in.

"Oh, Horatio, tell Anita I am so sorry. How is she doing?"

"She says she'll be alright. After five years of being a sheriff, she knows how to bear up."

Out of sheer habit, he asked what cases the team had picked up.

"Would you believe we have a lead on the Braillssons?" She told him about the murders and what they had discovered up to that point. The more she described further details, the more familiar they sounded to Horatio. "I finally figured out how to read Tad's writing. Besides the usual young teen angst he was anxious for his cousin to arrive. I figured out the cousin, Jaime, was older but Tad thought of him as a brother. He hoped Jaime wasn't going to bring his girlfriend. He was sure it would be trouble if she came too. I guess he felt possessive, like kids do at that age."

"Did you find out where Jaime was coming from?"

"No. Tad didn't feel the need to mention it and since the date when Jaime could make the trip wasn't set, Mr. Malovasic hadn't bought the ticket."

Horatio grunted.

Then Calleigh went on to tell of their findings about the house. "I set Ian, our finances expert, on the ownership of the house and he came up with quite a history for the place. The first owner was a self-made man who sold guns, really poorly made guns."

Horatio's ears perked up.

"He ended up doing a midnight move out of the house to the other side of the country because some the guns blew up."

"And he was afraid Mala Noche was after him."

"How did you know?"

From there came a rapid exchange of information.

About half way through the conversation, Horatio had stepped back into the room where Anita sat with her coffee. The longer he spoke, the brighter her eyes burned.

"What about the primary victim of the shooting?"

"We haven't determined the motive yet."

"Fingerprints?"

"Have a couple but no I.D. yet. Of the four guns used, only one hasn't been identified."

Horatio asked Calleigh to hold on. "Anita, do you have access to a database of fingerprints?"

"Yes. It's incomplete but serves us well on occasion."

"Would it be possible for our lab to have access to the Mexico database?"

Anita searched the table top for an invisible bit of information. Then, with an inscrutable look on her face, she said, "Not without a great deal of red tape. I bet, though, that you have an IT man that, with my help, could hack into it."

Horatio returned the phone to his ear. "Calleigh, did you hear that?"

"Let me ask Vince what we need to do. It's late here now so he's gone. I'll get him on it tomorrow morning and I'll call you about nine o'clock your time."

"That sounds good. Is there anything we can do here to help you?"

"Not that I know of yet. I'll call if I think of anything."

The two had worked with each other for so long they both hung up at the same time without another word.

Horatio then told Anita what Calleigh had told him.

"So at least we have an idea of who sent the guns."

"Do you think tomorrow we can go to Mexico City and see what we can find out about how the shipment was brought this country?"

Anita gave Horatio a pitying smile. "Really? You American police think your rules apply everywhere. Whether by boat, plane, train, or truck, our side doesn't have the patience to look inside the box marked 'fishing poles' or whatever. At least, not unless there is something promised that is more than the inspector's modest pay to make the effort."

"So, we're not likely to find a box marked 'Illegal guns sent by Mr. Smith' with his home address at the Comisaría Central de Policía?"

"Welcome to Mexico, guard your wallet, enjoy your stay."

"Just as well. When Calleigh gets hold of good lead on a case she's a bull terrier; won't let go until she's ready. We are just as likely to get a call at eight or nine in the morning as later."

"Working and a baby? Does she ever sleep?"

"Beats me."

As he had predicted, Calleigh called them at a little after nine the next morning. "I called Vince at his home last night and he came in early. He thinks this should be a piece of cake."

With that, she had Vince on another line calling Anita's phone. Soon, Anita was nodding as she sat at her office computer carrying out the instructions Vince was giving her.

Meanwhile, Horatio asked Calleigh if she had anything more on the Braillssons.

"Ian is still digging. He says the six degrees of separation exists only among people. When it comes to companies, it is worlds within worlds of division from each other."

"Does he think he'll ever find the connection?"

"I asked that same thing and he said he was sure he could. He is now doing what he calls reverse tracking on the Braillsson finances, tracking how the man used to do banking, set up tax shelters and so on and then track any accounts that are done in the same way."

"And he is doing it on the down-low isn't he? We don't want to spook Braillsson."

Calleigh chuckled gaily. "He said something about being so low he can do the limbo under a snake's belly with ease."

"Good."

"Do you think the killers are still in Miami?"

"No reason why not. Almost no one knows the Liangs went to San Diego. I'm not even sure how Ian found out. It's possible that the killers are still in the city looking for the man who sold them the bad guns."

"Calleigh, call Tripp and see if MDPD has any Asian undercover police."

"You mean to use as decoys?"

"That is correct."

"I'll get right on that."

They both hung up.

Half an hour later, Anita removed the blue tooth phone from her ear with look of satisfaction. "Vince said he has every print from our database."

"Does he think they can use it?"

"I didn't ask, Horatio. I know that many are only prints and names, no photos or backgrounds such as you have. For that we would go to another database and type in a name and see what comes up."

"Technological progress is slow, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

"Any ideas on how to track Jaime and his girlfriend?"

"You think Jaime, the one they were expecting in Miami, is the one who was supposed to be killed here?"

"I don't know what to think. It's just a logical place to look at while I'm here."

"Meaning you won't be here for much longer?"

"I have to go back to work sometime."

Seeing Anita wilt a bit, Horatio moved towards her. "Hey, I'm not leaving without some answers to leave with you. Hopefully, they'll work out to be some to take with me as well."

Anita stood straighter and gave Horatio a look of determination. "Well, in that case, let's go shake a few trees and see who falls out."

Horatio was surprised to find himself being driven back to Anita's home and even more surprised to follow her inside and up the stairs to Carlos' room.

"We need to completely toss this place, look for everything, anything that could tell us exactly who Carlos was set up for. Jaime is too common a name so we need a family name."

She turned to the small dresser. "I put the belongings he had with him when he was killed here. His phone was old so the killers didn't take it. I'll go through it to see if I can find anything. Meanwhile you can look for notes or anything else, if you would please."

"I'll be happy to help. Anything out of bounds here?"

Anita looked at him, her eyes sad but a slight smile on her lips. "He is dead and buried. I will not enshrine him."

Horatio returned the comment quietly, "I was thinking about Mirabel's feelings."

"She'll give me grief over this, I know. I'll spend this evening patting and petting her and then she can clean up whatever mess we make and get over it."

By the end of half an hour, the two had each come up with something. Anita had found a series of texts between Carlos and Jaime. They read in Spanish: 'Heads up, get out of town now.' 'Why?' 'Gang wants you dead.' 'Who says?' 'Never mind. Now, my friend.' 'Okay. I get it. I'm taking Sarafina with me."

"There's no last name here. We can only guess that ours is the same as Calleigh's Jaime."

"And at this point, we have no clue as to where they are. If they are the same ones connected with the Malovasic people in Miami, their contacts died before they got there. I'm betting Jaime and Sarafina are still on their way to Miami if at all."

"Where did you find that?" Anita nodded to the paper in Horatio's hand.

"Taped under the second dresser drawer."

Anita sighed lightly and shook her head. "You'd think the brother of a sheriff would know better than to hide something in so obvious a place."

"I don't think he was figuring professionals would be invading his little world."

"Yeah, or why."

Horatio held the paper out to one side so he and Anita could both peruse it. It read, 'Gun behind half wall of old house on El Lienzo. Get Jaime to meet you in park at the end of El Crepusculo after dark. Do it then meet us at usual place and you will be in.'

"Well, that's pretty clear," Horatio said quietly.

"Then, when they figured out Carlos didn't do it, that Jaime had escaped with Sarafina, they killed Carlos."

"And didn't use a gun. I guess being jumped in was risking having a hand blown off in the process."

Anita pulled the overturned chair onto its legs and sat down heavily. So, we know from Cosine that two of the three who killed Carlos are in Miami. From Calleigh, we can guess that they and other Mala Noche are determined to get revenge on a deal of bad guns. We don't know who number three is."

"Is Cosine your only informant?"

"I'm afraid so."

Anita's eyes showed she was thinking about how she could find more information.

Horatio stood back, feeling uncomfortable, wishing he could help more. Suddenly, he remembered something.

"Anita, do you think we could talk again to Dr. Suarez?"

"About Carlos' murder? We have the report."

"I don't think this information will be on the report."

"Dr. Suarez, you pretty well described Carlos' wounds. You also mentioned your experience in an ER dealing with a multitude of things like this.

"Yes."

"You said one type of wound was hesitant and shallow."

"Yes, the ones made with the shank type weapon."

"Did you by any chance pull anything from the wounds, anything that might have been left by the weapons?"

"I did. I was going to send it to Anita's office this afternoon. There wasn't much. In two of the lighter wounds I found what looks to be bits of leather. I think perhaps it was used to tie a handle onto the shank. In the wound made with the heavier knife I found some kind of plant material."

"Any idea what it could be?"

"I can only guess. The only plants commonly connected to knives in this area are grapes. The pickers use personal knives to harvest grapes."

Anita's face lit up. "Horatio, we have some phone calls to make. Let's go. Thank you Manuel."

Two hours later, Anita and Horatio were walking into a school. The boy they had asked to talk to was already sitting in the Administrator's office. Unlike American schools requiring the presence of a supervising adult, they were left alone with the teen.

"Guillermo, you know why you're here?"

At fourteen, the boy couldn't hold the criminal casual, 'don't care look' for too long. "Yeah, I guess."

"What do you think we should do about it?"

The boy nodded sullenly at Horatio. "Who's he?"

Anita didn't take her eyes from the boy's face. "Someone who could make your life very bad if you don't cooperate."

Guillermo's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I can make what you did go away if you give us some information."

"Like what? I don't know anything."

How many times had Horatio heard this? Every criminal went on the principal of 'deny everything, admit nothing and deflect whenever possible.'

Anita's voice softened. "It's not really anything much. It's just something we'd like to know. Your brother, Marco, he's gone, right?"

The lad squirmed uncomfortably in the worn wooden chair. "Yeah, so?"

"I was just wondering if anyone went with him?"

"Why?"

Anita's voice got harder. "Remember, you give me information and you won't be in trouble anymore."

"Yeah, I think he took Donato."

"Who is he?"

"Alcantar, the one who used to work at the Cantina de Muzquiz before he got fired."

"Good, now just one more question and you're in the clear. What pal had to stay here?"

Guillermo made a face. "I'm not a snitch."

"Ah! You want to spend more time in jail."

She paused to let the idea sink in before going on.

"No one will know what we talked about here. For all anyone knows, I'm here accusing you of shoplifting at Jose's store on Fuente de Pegaso, your favorite place. If you can't give me satisfactory answers to my questions, I haul you in and see that you spend some more time in jail."

The look on the boy's face told Horatio he would rather not suffer that experience again.

"Okay, okay, another guy thought he was going to go. He told me the other two said something about not doing something right and he had to stay here. His name is Justino Tinoco. He works at the leather shop."

Anita reached out to touch Guillermo's knee. The boy's body twitched slightly but settled back. "There, that wasn't so hard. When we leave, we'll talk loudly saying your alibi checked out. No one will guess what we really talked about."

The boy stood and probably for the first time in his life, asked the school supervisor that he be returned to class.

In the car, Horatio asked, "How many leather shops are there in La Cancion?"

"Just one that could afford to hire help. It is by the alley where Carlos was killed."

Horatio was not surprised. "Let's check out the store on the other side first."

"You mean, play 'cops just checking out leads, see if they remember anything unusual' type of thing?"

"Something like that. I don't think Mala Noche would take kindly to the brother of one of their own talking behind their backs. Besides, you don't have a thing unless you can put the leather wrapped shank in Justino's hand."

"I bet I could get a confession out of him."

Horatio sat and looked at Anita for perhaps ten seconds with his eyebrows raised in appraisal. He was envisioning her capabilities, how far she might go in 'private' interrogation. "I know you could."

Anita glanced at Horatio's strangely cool eyes and looked away and back several times. "This is why I need you to stay; to put the shank in Justino's hand."

"It will be placed there one way or the other. If we can't do it now, you'll find a way later."

"How do we do it without spooking him?"

"We concentrate on questioning everyone but Justino."

Without another word, Horatio climbed out of the car and waited for Anita to join him.

They spent about twenty minutes in the first shop with nothing to show for it except small wooden spatulas of honey in their hands. The spatulas were disposed of with a great display of appreciation in the waste basket. They then went to the leather shop with a series of questions about what that owner might have seen. As expected, since the murder had occurred at night, he had not seen anything.

While Anita was questioning the shop owner, Horatio pretended to admire the various straps and harnesses. Looking behind the counter to the back, he spied a half-finished saddle. He waited to Anita to come to the end of her line of questioning and then spoke up. "Señor, would you mind if I look at that saddle?"

"Of course, come." The man motioned Horatio around and nodded to Anita as well.

Horatio ran a quick hand around the wooden form set onto the stand. He noted the leather already cut out and laying on a table. Not having any idea of how saddles were made, he hoped he was looking at the right places on the saddle. "Nice."

He then looked around at the hides in various stages of finish. "Do you do all of this yourself?"

"Oh, yes, I do. I finally had to hire a boy to do cleanup, but I do the leather. I'm hoping to teach the lad the business since I don't have children who are interested."

Horatio's eyes wandered the upper walls. "What do you use deer hide for?"

"Ah, I see you spotted my trophies. I used to hunt when I was younger. I don't anymore, but I keep those horn plaques. Of course, Justino broke one several months ago. I would have been really angry many years ago but now, well, I accept that happens."

Anita and Horatio exchanged glances.

Anita inquired about Justino and was told he was applying for some part time work at the wine depot at the other end of the alley.

Outside, in the car, both breathed a sigh of relief; Anita because she hadn't spooked Justino and Horatio because he hadn't made a fool of himself over his lack of knowledge about saddles.

When the ringing began, both checked their phones. This time it was Horatio's.

Calleigh said, "We got a match on the fingerprints. Can you get a match for Donato Alcanto and Marco Kesselman?"

Horatio repeated the names and watched the look on Anita's face. "I'm handing this over to Anita. I think she can fill you in."

Two hours later, both Horatio and Anita were packing.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Lieutenant Horatio Caine didn't only get respect from the team in the lab; they unfailingly gave him something closely akin to worship. The men admired him for his bravery and the women adored him for his kindness and understanding. All admired his insights and knowledge of forensics. Whenever he entered the high ceilinged lab room, every head swung around, every eye centered on him even if briefly, everyone nodded to him. Each got a look, a nod in return. It was good to be under H's command.

Today's entry was nearly met with cheers. He had been absent for over two weeks with no word as to when he would return. Although few knew of the exact circumstances, all felt the pain; they knew him that well. Most did a double take when they saw that familiar red hair, the quick stride, the striped shirt under the dark jacket. The first look was to be sure he was alright now and then to get assurance from him. Once the quietly cheerful rumble passed around from section to section, everyone settled down to their usual routine, at peace with their world.

"Horatio, I am so glad to see you back." Calleigh's accent wound through his name like the sweet fragrance of magnolia blossoms.

"Thank you Calleigh. You remember Anita?"

Calleigh extended her hand and the two women greeted each other with recognition.

"Although she's here in an unofficial capacity, we'll be working with her and the Mexican government if we find the two men you know were at the Malovasic house. We think they are the same ones who killed her brother."

"Of course, anything we can do to put these people away for a long time. Right now, we're just trying to figure out how Malovasic and his family got into the line of fire."

The three were slowly walking to Calleigh's part of the lab. As they went, first Eric joined them and then Ryan and Walter.

After introductions, Horatio asked, "Have you found any connections between the Malovasic family and Mala Noche?"

Eric spoke up here. "Malovasic's police record is washtub clean, H. He never had more than a parking ticket. He may have bent the law a little here and there in his private investigator work, but we can't find anything else."

"Ian did finally work out the money trail for the guy. He has a million in a couple of different offshore banks. That money was deposited by a shell corporation and so on. The house was apparently being rented to him for next to nothing for the next five years, again by a shell corporation."

"You said he used to be part of the witness protection program when he was a federal agent?"

"And then, in a fashion, he was in WitSec, only not government-backed and not so secure. The positive part was he had more monetary backing."

Walter said, "I'm still not so sure of the timing between when the fingerprints were laid down and the murders. I mean, supposing they came first, rang the bell and Mrs. Malovasic answered the door. Here they're expecting an Asian family and they find Mr. and Mrs. Whitebread, so they leave. I'm thinking whoever answered the door didn't quite close it. Then, whoever wanted the Malovasics dead come in pushing the door with gloved hands, shoot and leave."

"Either way, we don't have a clear motive."

"Calleigh, what did Frank say about any Asian undercover officers?"

"He found two people he thinks will work out. We're taking the information that Ian gave us and feeding it to them as we speak. By tomorrow they are going to be Mr. and Mrs. Liang Woo, cheats and con artists extraordinaire, trying to stay on the down low in a Miami high rise."

Ryan said morosely, "Oh Calleigh, you didn't really just say that, did you?"

Calleigh grinned. "Aw, c'mon, how often have I had the chance?"

Eric looked down at his former lover, now best-friend-ever. "Once too often?"

Anita asked, "These undercover people are supposed to lure the Mala Noche people? Do we know it will be the same ones who killed the family?"

Everyone went silent for a moment before Horatio turned his sad look to the dark haired woman. "No, we don't. Mala Noche isn't that organized. If I understand it right, the whole body is aware of the bad guns and who sold them. More likely than not, there's probably a green light on Liang Woo making him open to anyone who can get close enough to kill him."

Calleigh added, "There is a possibility that Marco and Donato put in a special claim on to Liang for whatever reason. Do you know if one of the guns killed one of their family members or a close friend?"

"I'll have to make a call and see what I can find out."

"We would appreciate that Anita. If we know who exactly might be coming after our decoys, we'll have a better chance at stopping them." Horatio was staring a hole in the floor, seeking any flaws in their ideas.

"What else have we got?"

Walter spoke up. "I found a bit of plant matter on the carpeting that's unrelated to anything around the house. There's a chance one of the killers brought it in his shoe and it got rubbed off by the carpet fibers. It's part of a leaf. I'm still going through the plant database. It could tell us where these guys stopped off or even where they are holed up."

Horatio said quietly, "Check it against a grape leaf grown in La Cancion, Mexico Walter."

Walter's boyish face lit up like a child being given a choice from a bowl of candy. "I'm all over it." And he sped out.

Eric rose from the stool where he had been half sitting. "I need to go check with Vince and see if he dug up anything more from the Malovasic computer. A second search of the house brought up another hard drive. It has files he wrote to directly, bypassing the main drive. They were, of course, encrypted so he's still working on them." He stood and left the room.

Horatio then looked to Ryan. "Valera and I are filling in for Natalia. She's got a bug that the doctors say will have her down for another week. She forgot her flu shot."

"I'll have to give her a call to wish her well. Meanwhile, what do you have?"

"Not much. All of the blood at the scene belonged to one or the other Malovasics. Cal and I have been taking turns reading through the teenage boy's diary. He was so intelligent, he made up his own language symbols. On the other hand, most of what he wrote about wasn't worth encrypting."

Calleigh spoke up. "There was never any mention of his father being in trouble or danger. He did mention a rare argument between his parents before they moved from their old house. All he got out of it was that his father said something would be good for the family and his mother said she didn't want him to be involved in such a thing. Tad speculated it had to do with him."

Horatio nodded once. "I don't think that argument had anything to do with young Tad. I think the disagreement was how the new house was acquired. There is almost certainly a connection between the Braillssons and Mr. Malovasic. Calleigh, why don't you and Ryan go out to the Parrot Grove Apartments with a photo of Mr. Malovasic? Let's see if the manager remembers his face."

Anita idly watched the pair exit. She noted that, although they seemed equal in height, Calleigh was wearing a pair of gorgeous four inch boots. She had already noted that Ryan was maybe two inches short of six feet which made Calleigh barely five and a half feet if she was flat footed. She wondered if the physically well matched pair dated.

The remaining two looked at each other for a few seconds before Horatio said, "Anita, I have a phone call to make."

"I'll call a few people in La Cancion and Mexico City about whether relatives of Marco or Donato were hurt or killed in any way other than by the bad guns."

Horatio took Anita up to his office to make her calls. He walked down the short flight of stairs and a few paces to the center of the lab, the place that most often felt like home. "Francis, how are you?"

"Horatio, you have no idea how glad I am to hear your voice. It is true, you're back?"

"You sound stressed. Is working with Calleigh that difficult?"

"Let's not go there, Horatio. You know I worship the ground she walks on. It's just that, we have different styles of working. I couldn't go home and blow off steam and I was reaching my limit. Until a second ago, I was seriously considering delegating the case over to Yelina."

"And now?" Horatio liked to pull Tripp's chain on occasion.

"What do you need Horatio?"

Over the next several minutes, Horatio asked for and got the latest on the efforts to set up a trap for the people who were after the Liangs.

"We're moving furniture in as we speak. It's all wrapped in bubble plastic so no one can tell it's cheap particle board crap. The place will be set up by tonight and then we'll act like we're smuggling in the Liangs. We'll leave plenty of gaps in the effort for ambush if that's what they're going to do. After that, well, it's a waiting game."

"I know. Are you going to be on stakeout?"

"Nope. My bald head is about as recognizable as your hair is to the Mala Noche."

Horatio filled the Sergeant Police Detective in on what information he had brought with him.

"We can add that to what we give to the guys on the stakeout."

"Where will they be?"

"Besides the streets, we'll have all the floors up to the dummy suite covered. They'll be dressed like janitors mostly. There aren't a whole lot of other workers in these fancy places except for the residents. This place is new and has a bunch of empty apartments still so we have people in some of those."

"What about the dummy suite? How is that covered?"

"Besides the undercover couple, we'll have five SWAT guys in there. Each one will be covering a door or any window with a clear shot from another building. They'll also have sound detectors so they can hear anyone who approaches from any direction."

"I hope this works, Frank."

"You and me both."

"Hey, Horatio?"

"Yeah Frank?"

"You okay?" He was referring to Horatio's absence.

Knowing the allusion, and after a moment's hesitation, he answered, "Yeah, I think so."

As Frank hung up, he wasn't convinced. There was a change in his friend's voice.

"Hey Mr. Jimenez, do you remember me?"

The manager of the Parrot Grove Apartments quickly looked around the courtyard and beyond. "Yes, I do."

Seeing how the eyes searched, Calleigh waved her hand and her brightest smile. "Oh, don't worry, it's just us today."

"Oh, I see. What can do for you?"

"I brought a picture for you to look at. Now, it's a computer picture because the man sustained a severe injury to his face but this is close. We were wondering if you have ever seen him."

A glimmer crossed the man's eyes but he hesitated before saying anything. Finally, he said, "Now I remember. Yes, maybe a month before you came that first time, he was here. He came to rent the place for those people you were after. He put the security deposit and first and last and said the people would be occupying it in a couple of weeks. He gave me their information and showed me his driver's license."

Ryan asked, "Didn't you think this was all a little odd?"

"In dealing with the public, nothing is odd. All I can ask is first, last and a security deposit and then some kind references. Who gives it to me or for who is not in my control. My job is to try to keep these units full. Their references checked and then the people came by and filled in the rest of the paperwork and said they'd be moving in the following week. You know the rest."

Jimenez nodded at the picture in his hand. "So, who is this guy?"

Calleigh blinded the man with a smile saying, "Thank you for the information. You have been so much help."

Before the man realized his question hadn't been answered, the pair had left.

Sitting in the police truck, Ryan closed his expressive hazel eyes in frustration. "So now we know this guy acted as an agent for the Braillssons to set up a dummy cover to knock us off the trail. The thing is, was Malovasic hired to head the whole job of hiding the Braillsons or was Malovasic hired for this one thing?"

"Considering Malovasic's background and the payoff, I'm guessing he was behind the whole thing. If he kept records we have a good chance of finding the Braillssons."

"And little Jake."

"Don't jinx it Ryan." Calleigh was keeping her eyes on the dashboard in front of her.

Ryan started the large vehicle and pulled out into the street. "Okay, we're looking for the Braillsson's."

Calleigh decided to change the subject just to be sure any curse was foiled. "Hey, when this is done, do you and Yelina want to come over for a dinner?"

"You mean you finally got some dining room furniture?"

Calleigh put her hand to her chest with a look of artificial shock on her face. "What? You think we would want to feed guests on TV trays?"

"All I'm saying is the last time I was at your home with Horatio and the rest of the guys, I ended up sitting on the floor because you had a couch, a single folding chair and a rocking chair."

"You said you were comfortable sitting on the floor!"

"And you haven't answered my question, Cal. Did you get dining room furniture?"

"Well, not yet, but we will. I promise you won't be sitting on the floor."

The two were still squabbling amiably as they rode the elevator to the third floor of the MDPD-CSI lab building.

"H, I think I have a problem."

"What's that Walter?"

"That piece of plant material wasn't grape or from anywhere in Mexico."

"Okay, where was it from?"

"It's grass and ubiquitous all over southern Florida. Specifically, it's called creeping lily turf but it doesn't matter what the name is; the point is it doesn't pinpoint where our boy picked it up."

"Walter, you said you found the grass in the carpet. Was there anything else?"

"A smudge of dirt."

"And you got a sample?"

"Oh, I see where you're going. Yeah, I'll do that."

"Horatio, do you always stand here? All the while I was on the phone, I noticed you never moved from this spot."

Horatio smiled down at the inquisitive woman. "I suppose I do. Did you find out anything?"

Giving up on her probe into Horatio's habits for the moment, Anita referred to a sheaf of notes she had made during the hour and a half of calls. "I called both Puenza and Suarez to see what they had. They both knew of payback attacks but neither knew of any from either the Alcantars or Kesselmans in the last year or so. Then I called the Central Office in Mexico City. Their records show no particular arguments for either family name in the Mala Noches. Finally I asked about Malovasic and Liang. Nothing on Malovasic, but a large bell rang on Liang.

"One lead was from guns bought at a store that actually kept records. One shipment came from Liang. A Kesselman in Mexico City and an Alcantar in Ecatepec suffered from a gun going off and both had bought the guns from this shop. A Kesselman had a rifle and was killed and the Alantar lost his thumb and first two fingers of his right hand firing a handgun. If you're named Liang in the streets of Mexico City, you're a dead man. I think, though, the thought is he is still in Miami."

"Do you think Donato and Marco were given first dibs?"

"Almost no doubt, Horatio."

"We still don't know whether it was these two who killed the Malovasic family."

"What did you find on that plant material?"

"It's not a grape leaf. It is common grass found anywhere in Miami."

Anita looked around at the lab, at the glass walled sections where people hovered over clear plastic counters, turned to start machines working, turned back to peer into eye pieces, paused to make notes. She sighed. "All of this feels like I'm inside of a crystal ball and still I have no answers."

Horatio looked down to examine his fingernails at arm's length for a few seconds while he nodded and let the slightest hint of a smile touch his lips. "The same here. Stick around though; you'll be surprised at what the soothsayers here can come up with." Looking over at her, his eyes glittered. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen the elevator lights counting up to the third floor.

"Horatio, we hit pay dirt at the Parrot Grove Apartments!" Calleigh voice crowed out as soon as she stepped out onto the floor.

"He recognized Malovasic?"

"Malovasic set up the rental. All the Braillssons had to do was sign the receipt and pretend to look at the unit. I guess Mr. Braillsson took up a few empty boxes after that and then made a big deal of taking down empty boxes like he had already unloaded them. No one thought twice about never seeing them after that."

"And we still have no leads as to why Malovasic was killed?"

Calleigh opened her blue-green eyes wide and shrugged. "From all appearances he had finished his job and Braillsson paid him off. The Malovasic family was set for the next five years at least."

"Even so, Braillsson never struck me as the type that would hire killers." Ryan added.

"I agree," whispered Horatio. "Ryan, Eric is in the AV room with Vince working on the Malovasic computer. You and he will be on that side of the case from now on."

Watching Calleigh wilt, he turned to her. "Calleigh, I want you to figure out if the Malovasic murders were mistaken identity or perhaps a killing for no reason except having seen their faces. Only as a last resort can we think of a connection between Braillsson and Mala Noche."

Calleigh Duquesne could put on a great poker face when her life depended on it. Now, however, her expression showed her concern for her child. She knew she couldn't be involved in the case and yet she so very much wanted to. The emotion was so clear, even Anita could read it. Even so, her words denied her feelings. "I'll see if any of my street contacts have heard anything."

Anita watched the blonde walk to the elevators and asked Horatio, "What if the murders of this family are connected with the kidnapping?"

"Then she can't work on this case and goes on to the next one."

Anita looked around with resignation on her face. "Even more so than mine, your work is never done, is it?"

"I could give a new case each week to every team member and still be behind.

Anita jerked her head towards the elevators. "Since the work is always waiting for you, how about taking some time for some lunch?"

Horatio guessed there was more than a stomach hunger to Anita's invitation.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Forgive me for being nosy but I was wondering about the relationships among your team."

"Excuse me?"

The two sat in a corner booth surrounded by the lunch crowd din of a popular Peruvian restaurant. With the noise in back of him, Horatio had heard Anita's question perfectly well but wasn't sure about the meaning.

"I was just wondering about, you know, who is with whom, who the pairs are? Or is there some kind of rule here that forbids relationships at work?"

"No, no rule, exactly. Personal relationships among team members are frowned upon." He had thought to answer 'you don't mince words, do you?' but refrained.

"I can tell from the way you are dancing around the subject that those rules have no real meaning."

"May I ask why you ask?"

Anita looked at her salad of cold corn, potato and sweet pepper with quinoa over greens, for a moment. Then, she challenged, "Aren't you ever off duty? I know I breath, sleep and eat police work at home, but I do take some time off every once in a while. You already know about my personal recent history and I can tell you about Puenza's wife and three mistresses if that will turn your tongue loose."

Horatio leveled his gaze at his companion. "I'm just not comfortable with the discussing the private lives of my team."

"Alright, I'll ask and you just nod your head if I'm right. Are Calleigh and Ryan involved personally? I mean is the baby his?"

Horatio had tensed up during the first part of the question, his brows lowering over his eyes. Hearing the last of the question he eased back, a slight crinkle around his eyes appearing. "That one I can answer. Calleigh is married to our MDPD officer, Detective Sergeant Frank Tripp. The kidnapped child is theirs."

Anita's eyes opened wide in acceptance of what she heard. "Oh! I thought because of their similar heights, Ryan and Calleigh were a good match. Well, that shows how mistaken I can be. This man Tripp is a small man, yes?"

Horatio looked at the woman silently, nodding his head to one side. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer; it was more that he wasn't sure what to say. Finally he remembered a detail. "I think you saw Detective Tripp talking to me while you were making your calls. Bald, in a light brown suit with a bright yellow tie?"

Her eyebrows shot up for a second at the unexpected bit of news and then absorbed the last comment. At the same time she thought, 'Good, I have Horatio a bit muddled; now I can start the real conversation'. "Alright, you don't want to talk about the team, I understand protecting the family. Then, let me ask you about the woman who sent you on holiday to Mexico; you said she called you on something you did. Did the team know about it?"

Horatio was taken up short by the turn in questioning. His first impulse was to answer immediately and truthfully, but then he decided to deflect for as long as he could. So this is what it was like being on the other side of the interrogation table with an expert doing a casual job on you.

"To some degree they knew who she was, knew something happened between us. How could you tell?"

"From the way you were greeted when you walked into your lab. These people were not at all sure you were ever coming back. Did you know that?"

Horatio shoved his half eaten dish of sanochado aside and leaned forward on his forearms. "I wasn't too sure myself."

"You must have received a terrible blow to your heart."

Horatio nodded his head in a roundabout fashion ending with it to one side looking up into Anita's face. "I guess you could say so."

"She meant that much to you?"

"She meant a great deal to me. I was looking forward to a future with her."

"Did something happen to her?"

Horatio's face went darker than Anita had ever seen it in her short acquaintance with him.

"Yeah, me."

"You didn't…I mean, she isn't…" Anita didn't want to think about the possibility. However, the job did do strange things to some cops.

"You mean did I go rogue and kill the girlfriend? No, it was worse. I had strong feelings for her and even thoughts of marriage. After a great deal of hesitation, she decided to let me into her bed. No sooner had she done this, I let business get in the way. I destroyed the one thing a police officer should stand for, trust."

Anita leaned back. "She couldn't accept you were on duty twenty-four, seven?"

"I guess the whole thing was too new to her. Maybe she wasn't thinking on those lines."

His face flushed with his emotions, Horatio leaned back and put his head against the back of the padded booth, closing his eyes to shut out the memories for a moment. "It was bad timing and then a major mistake on my part."

"What became of her?"

"She was so hurt, she 'got out of Dodge' as she put it. I called her and she said it was over and to leave her alone."

"Ay! I can see why that injured you. So you went to Mexico. You wanted to think, as I recall?"

Horatio opened his eyes and he spread his lips thinly. "Then I got interrupted, as I recall."

"You called me," Anita reminded.

"I did, didn't I?"

"And then you so nicely volunteered to help me. The life of the dedicated policeman. I won't apologize for interrupting your vacation either."

"No need. I am what I am." Horatio decided to turn the table. "You are too. Were you married before Geraldo?"

Anita leaned back while she stared steadily at the various colors laid out on her dish. A part of her brain was picking out the bright patterns while the other was dealing with the complications of her personal life. "You mean, did I ever try to do the family thing?" She slowly shook her head from side to side. "A moving target is hard to hit. You, as a man, could pause and go talk to a señorita, no? That is what is done. As a working woman, I never had the time to pause long enough for a man to decide to ask me out on even one date before I was transferred to some other estación."

Horatio continued for her. "And then, as a Sheriff, you didn't have many equals which is why Geraldo took you by surprise."

Dark brown eyes rose to the ones staring at her. "I didn't even have time to contemplate getting pregnant."

"Considering he was Mala Noche, that was a good thing. Now you have nothing they want."

She quietly said, "Except maybe revenge."

Horatio looked up and out the window. "A cross most of us have to bear, Anita."

Leaning forward now, Anita's voice gained in intensity. "For how long, Horatio? I am thirty-nine years old and I can see the time when I'll be tired of police work. How long have you been policía?"

Horatio's eyes wandered to the sky outside of the window as he considered the years since he started as a rookie in New York, became the youngest man to make Detective in that city and then went on to his nearly thirteen years with the Crime Lab here in Miami. With a smile, he answered, "Let's just say that you were in perhaps the third grade when I started."

"And how long are you going to remain?"

Before he could answer, his pocket chimed.

"Yes Eric?"

The voice on the phone said, "H, Vince finally cracked the last encryption on the computer. I think you should see this for yourself."

"I'll be right there."

Anita shoved three more bites of food into her mouth while Horatio talked. She was too much of a pro to believe she had any more time to eat.

"Wait for me, Horatio. I can still make more phone calls."

"Malovasic broke his files into sections and then put them onto different drive sectors with a different encryption for each. After he did all that, he didn't use much imagination. So, I just assembled each document together under the name of the client. We now have it all." Vince leaned back in his chair.

Clapping Vince on the shoulder, Horatio said, "Good work. Thank you for the effort."

Without being asked, Vince raised his hand that held the thumb drive.

Without reply, Horatio took the drive and left the AV lab.

Eric noted the 'being on the trail' look in Horatio's eyes. He followed the boss into an unoccupied lab space. Inwardly, Eric was hoping this would put the missing spark back into his brother-in-law. As far as he knew, Horatio had never taken time off except when he was badly injured. Even then, the Lieutenant came back earlier than anyone Eric ever knew. H was as close to a super hero as he could imagine any person could be without being an animated character. Now, he was back, but that completeness he had always associated with the man, had always aspired to, was missing in some way. What had gone on between Solange and him?

Horatio put the drive into one of the computers on the desk and watched what the screen brought up. It was all a simple Wordpad document with no frills. It was labeled Braillsson and read like any dull report written by any government employee. The initial contact date had taken place about eight months previously. The man wanted Malovasic to get him a child and promised a payment of a million dollars. 'When I explained that there would be consequences and complications, he said he would pay me whatever it took to clear the way.' He had agreed to take on the project and they set up a meeting for the following day.

Horatio voiced his thinking. "I'd say he took notes during the call and then started the file."

The file dryly described the meeting and what Braillsson said he wanted; a blond child of no less than four months and no older than a year. He wanted it within a month. For this, Malovasic was to be paid a hundred and fifty thousand dollars to start with plus expenses. The rest would be paid when the child was handed over.

'I reminded him of the possible complications that would have to be taken care of. He said he would pay for anything as long as he, his wife and their new child were safe from jail. For that extra service I added extra charges to which he did not object. I took notes during the conversation and showed them to him. When we agreed on everything that was to be done, I set up one more meeting where I would bring the written contract.'

"To say the least, H, both of these guys had balls."

"One has enough to pay the price and the other has the knowledge to carry out the operation plus the desire for the funds."

The report continued with the firewalls Malovasic set up to protect his clients. Once the child (Calleigh's) was secured, his duties included being on guard when the Braillssons went to pay the money for the Parrot Grove Apartment and, later, appear to move in. As soon as that part of the charade had been complete, he sent them to another location entirely.

Eric's crooked smile joined his eyes in enjoyment. "I wonder how a pair of the richest people in Florida liked living in trailers near the Everglades."

"I guess they didn't. Look at the end of the report."

'Against my advice, the Braillssons have decided to end our relationship. After only five months, they seem to think I have set up enough protection of false ID around them that they are safe from being found. I keep reminding them that the police apparently have some kind of software that truly shows how a baby is aging and that, one day, someone will recognize their child. They disagree, have thanked and paid me a generous bonus. On my insistence, they signed an agreement of satisfaction.'

"The file is dated about two and a half weeks before he was killed. From his point of view, Braillsson had no complaints about him."

"Except perhaps to clean up the trail." Horatio stood straight and looked Eric in the eyes. "I think we have enough information to start the search for Braillsson again. We may kill two birds with one stone."

Another file included on the drive was the contract between the two. It was simple enough with a specific listing of the amount to be paid and when. Horatio shook his head over this one. "I wonder why they went through this routine. It's an illegal contract. The only thing it proves is intent to commit a kidnapping."

"Who knows what was going through their minds? Braillsson wanted a kid so bad he was willing to throw his life away for it and Malovasic was being offered more money than he had ever dreamed about. Maybe each thought a contract would assure that the other couldn't turn states' evidence without self-implication."

The other files were notes on expenses Malovasic had incurred including payment to the kid who had done the kidnapping. The Braillssons couldn't be bothered with the payment to the middleman. The rest were the deposits on the apartment and then later three different trailer homes and so on.

Finally, true to an FBI agent report protocol, Malovasic had finished with his personal summary. 'On my last viewing of the child, he seems healthy enough. I'm not so sure of this couple's ability to parent but that isn't my business. I have a feeling that in a short time they will be back to living at their old standards in a large house with servants enough to care for the child.

'As for myself, I am very happy with my work as well as the outcome. Although I occasionally have pangs of regret about the kidnapping, I'm sure the child is living at least at the standard he had before and, more likely, better. The outcome for me and my family has been beyond my best hopes. When it comes time for the free ride in this house to end I hope to have enough investment returns to maintain a similar lifestyle, perhaps in another location.'

Horatio swallowed hard after he finished reading. Had his summaries of awful crimes read so impersonally? He remembered the times when he worked as an undercover officer and how involved he had become. When he came out, he had to write personal précises. Were they like this, writing off the worst parts as 'pangs of regret'? He couldn't remember.

Eric pretended to go over the files again while he waited for Horatio to snap out of whatever fugue he had entered. The man was just standing there, staring at the monitor. Hoping to break him out of it, he purposefully put his head in the way of the screen pretending to get a better look at something.

As if no time had passed, Horatio shifted his stance. "Eric, I would like you to take Walter out to the Everglades areas and see if you can find where the Braillssons were."

Relieved to get an order for action, Eric acknowledged it and left to find Walter.

Reaching into his pocket, Horatio pulled out his phone. A moment later, Calleigh was by his side.

"I believe you said you had some street contacts that perhaps kept track of new Mala Noche that came in from other places?"

Calleigh's smile was brief and edgy. "I put the word out. I'll check and see if anyone knows anything."

"Calleigh?"

She had turned to leave. Now she paused and looked over her shoulder, the hint of a tear glinting in her eye.

Horatio turned his shoulder towards Calleigh as a way to guard his personal feelings. "I'm sorry."

Calleigh dropped her head for the briefest second and then raised it again. "It's for the best. I wish I could work on getting my son back, but then, he would eventually find out what I did to his kidnappers afterwards. I'd hate for him to have to live with that."

After a bright flash of teeth that was not a smile, Calleigh walked away with a stiff gait.

Horatio nodded after her. "Me too."

Horatio was sorry he had to deny Calleigh any duty. He knew police officers are trained to go after the bad guy and when they can't, they feel like chained, muzzled dogs. Their human brains work overtime to explain the logic to limiting their actions but their instincts fight just as hard to track and take down their prey. Throw in a mother's nature to protect her young on top of that and you have a whole heap of nitroglycerin ready to go at a light tap. Horatio made a note to keep an eye on her.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"What is it about the Everglades that attracts the trailer-trash?" Walter wanted to know.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Eric retorted, "If you could afford to live someplace else, would you want to live here?"

"Not here where these trailer parks are. I mean, they're on the dry plains; the areas that got to be such a mess when the Army Corps of Engineers thought it was 'good' to drain lower Florida. Now, that so many people are living in places like this, nothing can be done."

"And there you have the reason."

As the Humvee pulled into the second park on the list, Walter continued his argument. "You'd think though, that eventually people would find nicer places to live."

Eric glanced at Walter over the hood as they looked around for something that might serve as the Manager's office. "Where were you raised again?"

"Near a Bayou in a house that had been standing for almost eighty years. Like the Everglades, the Bayous have their own charm. We weren't rich, but we owned our home. The family turned down some darned good money for the place in the last forty or so years. There's a big difference between renting and owning." The car creaked as Walter climbed out.

"And there you have the counter to your comment; most everyone who lives out here is economically challenged." Ending the commentary, Eric nodded his head at a trailer that displayed a small 'Manager' sign in the front window. It was the only 'double-wide' in side but somehow seemed more dilapidated than some.

A bearded man who looked like he was perpetually out of sorts answered the door. "Yeah? What you want?"

Both knew they had been marked as law men.

Walter produced the photos of both of the Braillssons and asked if the man recognized either one.

The man took the photo and from their experience, they knew he only pretended to examine it. The two waited while he decided whether he would tell the truth, lie, or answer them at all.

To perhaps help him along, Eric added, "They kidnapped a child. We don't think they would have let anyone see them with it though."

"Then how do you know they kidnapped a kid?" The man whipped out his words with a sneer.

Walter raised his shoulders ever so slightly and lowered his voice. "This is part of an ongoing investigation. You can answer our questions here and now or we can get you to come with us downtown."

The man, who stood on the porch, while the two stood on the ground, tried to stare Walter down and failed. He thrust the photos back at the officers and mumbled, "Yeah, they were here for a month and then moved about a month or so ago. Good riddance to them too. I never had so many complaints about everything as with them two."

"Did they leave a forwarding address?" Eric knew even if they had, it was probably false.

"Hell no! They snuck off in the middle of the night. I didn't know they was gone until come time to collect the rent. Ol' Chuck who lives across the road from that place said he saw them. He don't much sleep at night. Of course, I had to wait for another month to pass before I could do anything.

"You know for sure they moved?"

"Yeah. Ol' Chuck said they loaded up suitcases and stuff in the old SUV they drive, so he figured they were moving. Around here that's the way; it's why I always get first and last and security."

Eric took the advantage of the man's sudden attack of chattiness. "Did they ever talk with anyone around here?"

"Maybe Natty who lived next door to them. She'll talk to anyone who stands still long enough, even trees and bushes if there's no one else."

A few minutes later, Eric put on his best smile as he knocked on the single wide forty foot long trailer. He looked at Walter to be sure he had his best boyish face on.

The look of welcome surprise on the elderly woman's face was priceless. It was obvious that she seldom had visitors knock at her home much less want to talk to her. "Yes?"

Showing her the pictures, they asked if she had talked with them at all.

"Oh, they're gone now, you know. I didn't know at first but then I saw Chuck, he's the one who lives across the way, you know and he said he saw them putting stuff into their car about three in the morning once and off they went. I tried to talk with them, took them a plate of homemade 'pone' when they first moved in. I could tell that was a mistake right off. The missus, she looked at the plate like it was filled with cooked lizard gizzards or something. Then the mister said they didn't have any time and closed the door. Well, I didn't try that trick again, let me tell you. Now, you can see that my porch here faces where they used to park their car and I like to sit out here quite a bit doing my hand sewing, you know. Well, when one or the other would leave, I'd wave, all friendly like and smile and ask how they were doing. I'd get that kind of milk and water blah look people can give sometimes and they'd drive off. I know they had friends; I could hear their phone going off all the time, but, you'd think one more wouldn't hurt, wouldn't you, you know?"

She finally seemed to run out of breath and Eric broke in to ask if she had ever heard any conversation about their next destination.

"You mean did I overhear anything while they talked on the phone? Nah, I only would hear the phone because it's high pitched, you know. They kept the windows shut and the air on all day and night so I couldn't hear anything when they were inside."

Eric thanked her and was about to leave.

"Hey, wait, I did hear one thing one time. The missus, she didn't wash clothes all that often that I saw, but one time, I was in the laundry room one night and she came in. She was on the phone and while she talked, she threw some sheets into a washer and walked out. Well, I only caught a few words but I did hear something about wanting to get out of this cruddy place and back to civilization. Then I heard her say 'not a condo, Liz, a real home!' I didn't hear anything else."

Eric's bright smile seemed to stun her into silence. He thanked her and shoved a card into her hand asking her to call if she thought of any more information. He and Walter then walked off as quickly as possible to the car and were driving off.

Eric, after glancing into the rear view window, ducked his head. "She's waiving at us!"

"Quick, guy, turn your phone off before she calls you."

Eric took out his phone and turned it off and dropped it back into his shirt pocket.

"God, can you believe how much that woman talked?"

Eric grinned out of one side of his mouth. "Well, we did ask."

"Yeah, and we got nothin'."

"Actually, I think we did get something. Natty mentioned that Mrs. Braillsson was talking with a Liz, right?"

"And how many of those do you think are in the Miami-Dade area?"

"I'm more like thinking how many of those might have known Annette Braillsson."

Walter raised his head as he inhaled the knowledge. "So we go through the Social Pages of the papers and find where the Braillssons threw bashes. Then we hope for a mention of the guests' names."

"We also go through the lists of the upper crust registry and hope to find a Liz there."

"As rich as those folks are, I bet it's going to be a short list. I'm thinking that for immediate equals, folks they talked with on the phone and stuff, they could only have a few friends. For big parties, I bet they had to scrape the bottom of the social barrel to fill their mansion."

The large, silver vehicle sped east across the flat landscape on the arrow straight road.

"Horatio, I have some news."

"Yes Anita?"

"Alcantar did have a relative who was injured by one of the bad guns. No one caught it because his extended family isn't Mala Noche and this guy was a distant cousin. I had to really sweet talk a friend at the Central Police station in Mexico City to get the information. Now I'm in for a couple of cases of wine and a really expensive dinner for her and her husband."

"But it paid off," Horatio replied.

"At least we have a motive."

"Mala Noche doesn't necessarily need a motive."

Anita's hands rose slightly, palms up. "What gang does?"

"The thing is we know it was probably these guys who were after the Liangs."

"Would they have shot first and asked questions later, do you think?"

"You mean, killed the wrong family by mistake?" Tapping her foot, Anita considered the matter, her arms folded across her chest, staring ahead.

Looking up at Horatio, she answered, "This is just speculation but no, I don't think it was a mistake. They may have done the shooting but it wasn't a slipup."

"How so?"

"Okay, you know the phrase, one hand washes the other and together –."

"They wash the face. Yes, I'm aware of the phrase."

"Now if you stop and think about it, these kids are strangers here. The only people they most likely know are other Mala Noches. So, they make contact with a gang and are given shelter by them. Mala Noche has their own code of ethics, but giving away something for nothing isn't included; not in Mexico and I doubt it is here either."

Horatio raised his head and noticed the beam of sunlight that had risen ever so slightly as the sun headed down from its zenith. "You know what? I think we have been looking at the wrong family member. We've been thinking that the number of bullets in young Tad was just senseless but maybe not. Hold on a minute, please."

Horatio took out his phone. "Calleigh?"

"Not a good time Horatio. I'm about to make contact."

"That's why I called. Ask what your contact she's heard about young Tad Malovasic. He may have been up to something."

Horatio heard only silence. He hoped she had not had to hang up before he finished.

Calleigh had scrubbed her face clean of any trace of makeup. This showed the slightest trace of a rash on her cheeks and forehead, a natural look for the hard streets. For daily life, her skin sensitivity was a bother but when she went undercover, it had advantages. Underneath her dirty clothes she wore clean silk long legged and armed underwear so the dirt and sweat wouldn't irritate the rest of her body. The mineral oil she had rubbed into her hair completed the look of a woman who lived the rough way. Now, slouching against a wall near a liquor store, her hoody pulled over her head face, she waited.

"Mags?" The young woman's height was accentuated by a lack of body fat.

Calleigh, not wanting to show her perfect smile kept her look stern. "Hey, Bitsy I thought maybe you weren't coming."

The woman's voice became petulant. "I said I'd be here, didn't I? I just got held up is all."

Looking at her face, Calleigh could tell the 'hold up' was probably a good strong hit off of a bong. Well, buzzed or not, the information was usually good. "You hear about the family that got knocked off?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"The kid; there were reasons to see he got hit hard, right?"

"Don't you know?"

Calleigh stared the woman down and jerked as if to leave.

Backing down from the glare, the woman asked, "How much?"

"Fifty." Calleigh reached into her ill-fitting jeans pocket and showed the top of a fold of bills looking around at the passing crowd as she did so.

"The news come down that he was into uppers and looking for steroids."

"Yeah, and who isn't? That's not enough."

"Not just for himself; he was selling, big time."

"So?"

"I heard he forgot to collect on the sales. He was giving the stuff away and his source didn't like that."

Calleigh had to work hard at controlling her breathing, not gasp at the news. "Now here's the fifty," she pronounced it fitty, "dollar question. Who was the source?"

Retreating protectively into her own hoody, shoving her hands into the pockets of the only slightly better jeans than what Calleigh wore, Bitsy went mute.

Calleigh silently counted up to sixty and once again moved as if to leave.

"Three Six gang."

Calleigh had heard of the thirty-sixth street gang and was surprised. This was a small crew who usually beat up their deadbeat distributors and cut them off, nothing more. "Since when did they get guns?"

"New leader, Tito Yamaguchi. Some kind of a whiz kid. He does everything by computer and has about as much of a soul as a 'gator. I hear they're distributing five times more than they used to. I guess he knows where to get the guns."

"Where are they getting the guns?"

"I thought that was the last question."

Calleigh maintained a stony silence, pretending to observe the street for enemies.

Bitsy sighed in frustration. "This is it, Mags. The little guns are from the street and the big ones are from Mala Noche."

Calleigh pulled out the money and simultaneously gave the informant a hug so she could pass it to the woman sight unseen. She whispered, "Thanks, girlfriend. You stay out of trouble, okay?"

Pulling back, the woman gave Calleigh a look that said, 'Like hell I will.' However, she said nothing as she checked the street and then, staying close to the building wall, she ducked into the liquor store.

Calleigh had long ago given up dwelling on the private lives of her informants. They lived on the edge and she took advantage of it. She had saved their fannies from jail when she could and, for that, had their loyalty More than that, they knew her only by her street name and she could only hope for the best for them.

She wandered slowly down the street in the opposite direction until she saw a bus at a nearby stop. Not paying attention to what direction the bus would take, she boarded, showed her pass and took a seat. Two blocks later, she got off, crossed the street and found another bus. An hour later, she walked the four blocks to a women's shelter where she showered and changed.

Horatio had tilted his head to his right side as he listened to Calleigh's report. "Do you know where she got the information?"

"No. You know how that goes; heard it from someone who heard it from…I think we're going to have to pull one of the Three Sixes in. At least we can try to verify who the leader is. I'm also going to track that one gun that we identified."

"The one I'm most worried about is this new leader, Yamaguchi."

"Yes, it's the smart ones that we have to be careful of, isn't it? Well, just because he can work a computer doesn't necessarily mean he's smart."

Horatio leaned onto his back foot as if he was about to take a step in the other direction. "For now let's pretend he is smart and be disappointed if he isn't, all right?"

"I'm going to go talk to Frank and find out if he's heard anything about the gang. It might save us some trouble."

"Good thinking, Calleigh. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You won't need me this evening?"

"Say hi to my godson for me, alright?"

Calleigh paused before she turned and looked at her boss with concern written on her face. "Hey, Horatio?"

"Yes, Calleigh?"

"You really okay? I know why you left had something to do with Solange leaving. Is she coming back?"

Horatio almost turned to his defensive posture but stopped himself. Calleigh was his friend and deserved him to be open and plain. "No, Calleigh, she isn't. I wish she was."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I Calleigh, so am I."

Although Horatio would have been glad to have Calleigh stay and follow up on the bullet evidence, he knew she would get more done the next day after an evening with her child.

"We got a hit on looking through the social pages, H."

Horatio turned to see Eric and Walter heading toward him.

Eric started with, "We found several old news clippings with Elizabeth Bennett in photo ops with Annette Braillsson. Looking her up, she comes from fish packing money. Her husband is Montel Bennett, the Cornish game hen king of south Florida. They're close to the same level, financially, as the Bennetts."

Walter finished with, "Apparently, Annette and Elizabeth often teamed up to put on balls of one kind or another. Annette always got top billing."

"Fast work, Eric and Walter. Go pay her a visit the first thing in the morning, would you please?"

"Will do." Eric turned and was followed by Walter.

Under his breath, Walter said, "We're going to a hoity-toity neighborhood tomorrow so you better wash a shirt."

As the elevator doors closed, Eric retorted with a half-smile, "Isn't it about time you go to your tailor, Abdul, the tent-maker, and get a new shirt made?"

Before Horatio could dwell on anything else, Ryan came around the corner.

"H? I think we got everything from the computer there was."

"Not quite Mr. Wolf. Or rather, there were a few things that never got entered. It seems that young Tad was a drug dealer."

"Oh really? What kind?"

"Uppers and steroids."

Ryan stood beside Horatio staring at the floor. "What was the problem?"

"He forgot to collect or to pay his source."

Ryan shook his head slowly. "He had no idea what he was getting into."

It was Calleigh's informant. Apparently Tad's source was the Three Six gang."

"I thought they didn't use guns. Did they hire someone?"

"Tomorrow we'll either know more or you and Calleigh will get to pull in a gang member or two."

"Meanwhile, what do we know about the Mala Noche from Mexico who are after the Liang family?"

"Frank has set up a stakeout. Two Asian undercover police with SWAT inside and out at a downtown high-rise. If I give you a call, I want you and Calleigh to be ready with vests and heavy fire to head for it."

"Got it. Is that it for now?"

"Get a good night's sleep. You're going to need it."

"Got'cha. G'night H."

Horatio looked around and noticed he was alone. The rest of the lab team must have cleaned up and left half an hour ago. The night shift had yet to arrive.

"Horatio, what are you doing for dinner?"

He had forgotten his guest! As much as he would have like to have said he had plans, he knew he couldn't. For one, he had a feeling Anita was far too good as a detective to not know a lie when she heard one. Second, he could not be that rude especially not after the hospitality she had shown him in Mexico. "Wondering what you are in the mood for?"

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Hey Love, I got a question for you."

"To what do I owe this visit from on high?" Frank's chair squealed faintly in protest as he turned to face Calleigh.

"For one, when is the department going to issue you a new chair? That one sounds like it's in its death throes."

"When I wind up on the floor and get up looking to let blood."

Calleigh giggled. She knew that was as likely to happen as not. The government didn't consider the law enforcement budget for office furniture to be top priority.

"I'm guessing that wasn't really the question you had in mind."

Calleigh swung one leg over the corner of her husband's desk. "What do you know about the Three Six gang?"

Frank waved a hand like he was shooing off an annoying fly. "Penny ante drug dealing."

"Did you know they have a new leader?"

"No, I don't keep up with the rug rat antics."

"Word is they were the ones who shot the Malovasic family and they weren't after the Mister. It was Tad they were after."

"Why?" Frank's interest was piqued.

"He was dealing. I heard he sold to his friends and forgot to collect. When it came time to pay up and couldn't, the gang took care of business."

"Using guns from where?"

"So you didn't know about this?"

"No but I'm going to make it my business to find out. I might be late for dinner tonight."

"Oh, the leader is Tito Yamaguchi and supposed to be computer savvy. He might be smart."

"Damn! I hate the smart ones."

"I'll make something that will keep for when you get home.

"Give little Frank a kiss for me and tell him Daddy will be home sometime."

"I will."

Frank was on the phone before Calleigh had left his cubicle.

"Why did you ask for a German restaurant?"

The two were tucked away into a small booth in a restaurant that was hardly large enough to hold the six booths plus two tables and chairs in the middle aisles.

"One of my great grandparents was from Germany. I only vaguely remember some of the dishes served when he was still alive. He taught his Mexican bride to cook some of the things he could find ingredients for. There are a few German places in Mexico City and I go sometimes. I just wondered what American-German cooking would be like."

"I've never been here. I took a chance. I guess I'm prejudiced towards Latin foods."

"From what I'm hearing from the kitchen, I'd say what we get will be fairly authentic." Anita referred to the sounds of the German spoken between the staff interspersed with the hearty laughter.

Two and a half hours later, the two left the storefront restaurant with full stomachs; the tunes of the accordion and the German folk songs were still ringing in their ears.

"You know, I think this place is going on my return list." Horatio felt like perhaps the last glass of excellent Rhine wine might have been a bit too much even with all the food he had consumed.

Anita paused and looked around her. "What a beautiful night! How lovely warm it is."

"Do you want to go for a walk? The beach isn't far from here." Actually, Horatio wasn't sure he was sober enough to drive.

A quarter of an hour later, Anita was literally dancing on the sand. "I would have thought half of Miami would be out here tonight. I can still feel the warmth of the sun. Have the natives forgotten this place?"

"The nightclubs have the attention of most of the people here."

Anita approached Horatio and tugged on his hand in an invitation to move with the tune in her head. He remained seated on the bench on the side of the walkway and shook his head.

"Thank you, I don't dance." He neglected to add 'now' to the end of the sentence.

"Alright then, let's just walk. I'm over it anyway." She put her shoes back on and stepped onto the walkway.

At first, she inquired about things that most visitors do, the lights on the horizon which, Horatio told her, were cruise ships and pleasure boats, what kind of fishing was available, the entertainment, and so on. When he asked if she would like to take part in any, she replied in the negative, reminding him that her business in the city was the same as his. He didn't try to dissuade her.

Finally, after the dreaded pause, Anita asked, "This woman you were involved with, was she a local?"

"Yes and no. She had been raised here and then various careers took her to other places. She returned a few years ago from what I understand."

"It's not often that a native, who leaves and returns home for any length of time, takes off again. You said she left because of something stupid you had done?"

"Anita, I would rather not talk about it."

"No Senor Rojo. You brought up the subject at the pyramids and made me curious. You can't throw out bait and not expect a cop not to grab at it and want more."

Horatio mulled over her words. Yes, she was right in that he had started talking. Her implication that it was unfair of him to now withdraw had no bearing on the argument as far as he was concerned. What he did consider was that he had started the revelations with the selfish intention that he would soon be gone and they would be a long time in seeing each other again. Now, they were working together and, as with any other partnership, part of the deal was in personal disclosures, once started, you couldn't pull back.

"I'm sorry Anita. I'm rather used to keeping things close to the vest when it comes to my life. It's been a while since I have worked with an equal who doesn't know me already. Alright, so, the stupid thing was not accepting her feelings at face value and accepting their importance to her."

"Alright, you told me the other day that she had allowed a sexual encounter and then you had run off on business."

"Yes, that's right"

"But you're a cop. After six months, she had to know it would happen."

"She wasn't ready at that moment, I guess."

"Now comes the hard question; why didn't you call for thirty-six hours?"

"I got ass deep in alligator-chewed body parts out near the Glades. We were trying to find as many as we could before something else distributed them beyond recovery."

"And she didn't accept your explanation?"

"By the time I realized how much time had gone by, she was gone. I didn't have a chance to talk to her. When I got to her house it was empty and her house was up for sale."

After a long silence, Anita said, "That poor woman was in a world of hurt."

"I think if circumstances hadn't conspired as they did, when they did," Horatio's voice caught, "we would still be together."

"Isn't it sad that we have to choose, sometimes?"

"With me, it isn't just the job."

Looking up at Horatio out of the corner of her eye, Anita said, "I won't even ask how many relationships or marriages you have had."

"Two marriages, both killed at the hands of criminals out to hurt me and only a very few serious relationships."

"You tired of it yet?"

"Counselor, when I know the answer to that, I'll get back to you."

They turned and headed back.

"I only had one serious relationship before Geraldo. I was a trainee on the outskirts of Mexico City. He was a dentist and not much older than I was. He came from a good family and didn't have the slightest idea what being a police officer was about except for what is on the television dramas. He sure didn't know what it meant to me. Back then, women on the force had mostly on desk jobs. I was one of the first field officers. He couldn't believe that, as a rookie, I was on call twenty-four hours a day. I had to call in every four hours, and then last thing at night and first thing in the morning. The first time I called in and was told to report, he gently explained that if I just wouldn't call, I wouldn't have to go."

"You went anyway and…"

Anita let out a heavy sigh. "The second time, he actually physically tried to stop me from calling. Only because he was such a sweet man, was I able to phone in. The deal breaker came when I refused to go with him for a weekend trip up to his mountain cabin. I wasn't allowed vacations at that point in the job.

"He did what Mexican men do to get their girlfriends to comply; he begged, pleaded, threatened, and pouted. I wanted to go with him. Oh, how I loved him so. I knew that eventually I could get a permanent assignment and we would find a way to be together."

"But?"

"He gave me an ultimatum, him or the job and meant it."

"And like anyone should in an 'either, or' command, you took or."

"I thought he would relent and he never did. I never thought to look back until eighteen years later. I was so hungry for some physical attention by that time, I couldn't imagine that Geraldo might have ulterior motives."

"You mean like expecting you to overlook the gang's gun running and money laundering?"

Anita laughed and then sighed. "Is there any hope for the likes of us?"

Horatio stopped in his tracks and swung Anita into his arms. "Oh, I think so." He held her tight while he kissed her. He felt her heart beat faster and faster against his chest while his own pulse speeded up. One hungry kiss turned to several.

Finally, breaking his hold on her, he went on evenly, "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

Anita looked up into the earnest eyes and slowly shook her head. "And that, Señor Rojo, is why you have had so many relationships. Don't get me wrong, I appreciated the kiss. Knowing your history, however, I think we had better consider anything we do while alone together."

Horatio looked around the area observing the few people walking on the sand or on the path. Finally, he nodded as slowly as Anita had shaken her head. "It's a bad habit, kissing women I find incredibly attractive."

Anita chuckled quietly. "My bet is not all of them have waited for you to kiss them. Am I right?"

Looking off to one side, remembering, Horatio nodded to those lovely ghosts.

"I think I had better get to my hotel room. What time will you pick me up in the morning?"

With that, any further discussion concerned arrangements and what the plans and hopes were for the next day.

"Cal, I'm sorry?" The remark came out as a question.

"Hey! You're not all that late. You come up against a wall and decide to leave work early?"

"Food first, woman or I'll eat you." Frank grabbed his wife and ravished her for a few moments. Even though she was dressed in pajama slacks and a large t-shirt displaying her son's current favorite animal, a rabbit, she smelled of fresh soap and powder. Frank remembered the days, before they started dating, when he would pass her in the hall and get a whiff of this mix of her scent and have to exercise every bit of control in his power not to whirl about and follow her. The only thing that stopped him from picking her up and carrying her up the stairs now was his need for food.

Calleigh laughed gaily at her husband's continuing interest in her. She felt the same way about him. Her thoughts went back to the days when she delighted in asking him for a boost so she could get to places beyond her stature. Sometimes, she could just as well have used a chair or found a ladder or even pulled herself up. It was more fun to use Frank, to be close to him.

Unaware of his wife's train of thoughts, Frank began telling her of what he had found out. "This Yamaguchi kid is all about organization from what I've heard. He always pays cash for what he buys and then gets his shorts all in a bunch if his sellers don't do the same."

"And by that you mean he kills them?"

"All I heard was that he had issued threats up to now. I guess this last was to prove he meant it."

"And the guns?"

"That's going to be what you have to find out. Yeah, mostly street guns. My bet is they're also buying from Mala Noche or a similar outlet. That's another reason for Mala Noche to be all uptight about the bad guns; it really ruins their market."

"Have you heard anything yet about the Liang setup?"

"Not yet. Speaking of which, where is that food? I'd rather eat and run than be this hungry and have to head out."

"Yes, oh Master of Mine!"

Calleigh pulled a plate out from the refrigerator, put it into the microwave and pressed the 'reheat' button. "It should be done in about three minutes."

"Since that isn't enough time even for a kitchen 'quickie' I'll go take a load off."

"Here, take a fork and a knife. Go set up a tray. I'll bring it to you."

Moments later, Calleigh sat curled up in the corner of the old couch while her husband fairly inhaled his food. She had barbecued a Cornish game hen, made a serving of mashed potatoes from a box, and cooked some mixed frozen vegetables. She had eaten a leg and both wings with some vegetables and set the rest onto a separate plate for Frank.

"You know, we're going to have to get some dining room furniture one day."

"Why?" Frank spoke around the food in his mouth, chewed once more and swallowed. "We'd never use it."

"Well, what about having guests over? I was talking with Ryan this afternoon and said I wanted to invite him and Yelina for dinner sometime. He thought it was a rather odd thought since we had no dining table or chairs. You remember the last time he came over with the gang he had to sit on the floor?"

"Well, tough luck."

"Frank!"

Sitting back and wiping his mouth, Frank let out a loud belch. "Aw, I'm sorry, Honey. Let's let the food get to work on me for a minute, okay?"

Calleigh turned around and laid her head on his lap and stretched her legs over the end of the couch. "That's another reason to eat like regular people; we'd eat slower, maybe even have real conversations."

"Okay, the first holiday the crooks take, we'll run out and find us a dining room set."

"By that time we'll be too old and have to send the grandkids out to shop for us."

"You see?"

As if on cue, Frank's phone rang. Calleigh popped up and retrieved it from his jacket draped on the rocking chair.

"Yeah?

"I'll call Horatio and I'll get right there."

"The setup?" Calleigh asked.

"Yup. That was one of the guys at the condo. Someone took out one of the men acting as a janitor. The guess is, they're headed up the stairs now. Also a shot came through the window. They think that's a diversionary tactic."

"You be careful."

"Yeah." Frank gave Calleigh a quick kiss on the lips and headed out. He never told her that he kept himself safe by envisioning her in his favorite see-through negligee standing with her hands above her head, standing so that she was backlighted. Although he never gave a criminal any quarter, stood and shot when he thought he had a clear line of fire, he never played Lone Ranger either.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"What's the status, Frank?"

Horatio had gotten the call from the watch on the luxury condo on his way back home after dropping Anita off at her hotel.

"We've got them trapped on the twenty-ninth floor just under where we had the setup. The problem is it's a standoff because there is one occupied apartment on that floor. They've got an elderly couple locked up."

"Flash bomb?" Horatio referred to the bombs that produced a great flash of light and a sound that deafened anyone without ear protection. It disoriented the victims to the point they were incapacitated long enough to be taken into custody.

"The gang has enough guys to cover every entry point from where they are. No one can get close enough to do the job effectively."

"So?"

"They also disabled the elevators. It'll take several hours to put the wiring back together. To keep the SWAT guys on the top floor occupied we're going to try to find a way down through the floor to where the couple is being kept. We're calling the contractor now for a copy of the building plans. If there are any conduits we might be able to get down there."

"Alternatives?"

"The usual; talking with them, telling them their target isn't actually in the building. The thing is they might decide to settle in until we bring the Liangs to them."

"Well, let's wait and see what the building plans show."

"Hey H, we got here as soon as we could. We have vests and rifles."

Eric stood shoulder to shoulder with Ryan and Walter.

"Lottie sure wasn't happy with me running off."

Eric pushed at the big man's shoulders. "You haven't told her yet that she has to get used to it?"

Walter just looked at the ground and shook his head. "Tonight was kind of a special deal."

"It happens, man, you know that."

"Yeah, part of raising my hand and swearing I'd uphold the law, blah, blah, blah, I know."

"If I can interrupt this little tear jerk fest, can we get to the truck and take a look at the floor plans? I just got them." Frank's face showed no sympathy for Walter's dilemma.

Ten minutes later, the hushed voice of the lead on the SWAT team, was heard over Frank's phone. "The only problem with that is our guy would have to remove his vest to get through such a small space."

He was talking about the only man on his team who was small enough to get through a heat duct in the wall. Through it he could be lowered in to the floor below. Without protection, however, that could be setting him up for murder.

Everyone stood down for a moment lost in thoughts about what would lead to a solution to the problem.

"Do we know where everyone on that floor is located?"

"What are you talking about, Walter?" asked Horatio.

"Well, it would help to know if any of the gang is in the apartment where the couple is. We know they have the elevators and exits from the stairs onto that floor covered. Maybe they are only guarding the couple's apartment from the outside. Provided no one is in the apartment with them, I'm thinking that one extra guy coming in from another angle might be what we need. That way, it covers the SWAT guy and keeps the couple safe."

Horatio's voice dropped to a deep whisper. "Walter, any thoughts on how that might be accomplished?"

In spite of his boyish appearance, Walter was extremely intelligent and at his best when thinking on his feet. "Let's check out how to get up through a vent. There might be one that goes directly down from the top floor past the one below and on down. Now, suppose the SWAT team could lower a rope through the vent to a guy below and then pull him up?"

"Then what?" Eric asked with a tone of belligerence in his voice.

"Each of the air vent outlets into the apartments is pretty big so it's no problem to gain entry to the floor from the vent. Then one guy could cause a disturbance while the other took down whoever is covering the stair entrance."

"Eric, I think he might have an idea here. We first have to determine if anyone is standing guard over the couple. If not, then the entire gang is likely to be in the hall. At most they would be standing at the door and would be distracted before thinking to go hold the couple hostage."

Ryan was nodding. "Well, Frank, are you ready to be hauled up through a pipe?"

The large man looked down at Ryan and then over at Horatio. "Guess who the most likely candidate for this job is?"

"Are you sure?" Eric had a glint of evil joy in his eyes.

"I don't have any other little guys on the police force with me tonight."

Several eyes strayed over to the uniformed officers standing around. All were six feet and over, broad shouldered, and well-muscled in general. Then the gaze returned to look at Ryan.

Realizing what the men were saying, Ryan's eyes opened wide at the prospect. "Aw, c'mon!"

Walter slapped his pal on the back. "Hey, stripped down to your skivvies, a little lard from head to toe, you'll slip through with no problem."

"If they hear me in the pipe and start firing, what then?" Ryan's voice began to crack from the stress he was feeling.

"We're not going to send you up there without a plan to keep you safe, Ryan," Horatio assured him.

Forty-five minutes later, Ryan was standing among ten other men. Not quite in his skivvies, he was wearing light leotard pants and a skin tight, long sleeved t-shirt. Without this protection, the inside of the vent, made of thin aluminum stretched over a cross-wire frame, would have scratched his skin to the bone before he was pulled five feet. The tube was so narrow, he realized he would have to hold both of his arms over his head with the rope wrapped around both wrists as he held on to it. He couldn't imagine how the other man was going to go down.

He was fairly well armed with a gun tucked into the waistband and as many ammunition clips taped to various parts of his body as seemed logical considering what was ahead. He also had two flash bombs.

After a great deal of communication with the SWAT team on the top floor, it was decided that the man above would enter an apartment at another end of the floor from where Ryan would go in. Each would toss a flash bomb into the hall in front of the apartment where the couple was and then shoot down as many of the culprits as possible. Then they would toss another flash bomb in the opposite direction and shoot again. The plan was set up to avoid getting shot at if possible.

Getting his reassurances from his teammates and Horatio, even getting a grudging nod and "luck" from Frank, Ryan wriggled into the vent from his back into a seated position, then found the rope and pulled it down so Horatio could tie it for him. The knot was such that a tug with his teeth would release it. The hard part was going to be bracing himself against the walls of the vent, unscrewing the cover to the vent up there, and then getting into the chosen apartment.

When he raised his hands up and tugged on the rope, his ascent began. This became the ten most agonizing moments in the CSI's life.

First, in the dusty darkness, he realized he was claustrophobic. 'Great! What a fine time to find this out.' he thought. He raised his head, hoping to see light from the vent above him. There was nothing except powdery grime drifting down. Halfway up, he realized he hadn't called Yelina. What an awful shock it would be to her if anything happened to him. Even so, he would have a lot of explaining to do. Suddenly he felt helpless, suffocated, wanted to sneeze out the particles filling his nose and knew he couldn't. Breathing through his mouth brought a metallic taste across his tongue and to the back of his throat inspiring a desire to cough. He could feel the rough interior of the small vent that carried the air conditioned air up the building's walls through the thin covering over his skin. The tugs on the rope began to chafe his wrists and he felt like his arm muscles were going to be pulled from the attachments to the shoulder blades. Finally, ages after the ascent had begun, the screen over the opening to the apartment appeared in his vision.

Fifteen minutes later, the trip up the vent forgotten, Ryan checked the time. According to the heat signatures recorded from several angles, all of the gang members were in the hallway. The guess was that the couple had locked their doors and the gang couldn't break in. These condos were designed to protect their dwellers as much as provide comfort.

He watched the second hand on his wrist tick from marker to marker as the minute hand slowly wended its way to the target time. Finally he slowly opened the door a crack and swiftly closed it again. A figure was passing by. A moment later, he opened the door again and found the area in front clear. He held his arm taught ready to pull, throw, and close on the designated moment.

At last, the time came. Ryan opened the door, threw the flash bomb and closed it with barely enough time to hold his hands over his ears. The other blast was so close the people in the hall no doubt heard it as one. Then, just as quickly as he had closed the door, Ryan pulled it open again and started firing at the men who were stumbling about in a daze. He first picked out those who still held their weapons in spite of the shock to their systems. Then he spied the ones who were close to the stairwell entrance.

At the first shot that ricocheted off the wall near him, he dodged back into the room and waited for the gunfire to stop. Then, after a quick count of five, he opened the door and threw out another flash bomb and repeated his previous efforts.

His last memory was seeing the man in the corner to the right of him, holding a gun aimed at him.

Ryan came out of a swirling dark place, feeling his hair being softly stroked. Yelina's classically beautiful face was close to his, her eyes were staring with loving concern into his own.

"Hey, the hero awakes," she said softly, her voice filled with care and love.

His first attempt at words was a mere mumble. He licked his lips and tried again. "I don't feel like a hero." His voice had a peculiar creaky quality to it.

"You and SWAT Officer White took out almost everyone on that floor. He came out clean and you shot the man who fired at you before you went down."

"I sure don't remember anything like that."

He heard another voice, "Well, believe it, Mr. Wolfe. I already filed for a commendation for you."

Thinking he'd rather have not gotten shot, Ryan mumbled his thanks.

As his vision cleared, he noticed Eric, Walter and Frank standing outside of the room looking in through the window.

Seeing Ryan's eyes go to his friends, Horatio said, "They'll be able to come in after Yelina and I leave. Only a maximum of three visitors to a room is allowed."

"You better tell them to hurry up. I'm not doing too well."

Yelina bent over and gave her lover a kiss. "I love you. I have some work to do anyway. I'll be back tonight."

"I'll check on you tomorrow." Horatio paused, a look of sad relief emanating from his eyes. "I'm glad you'll be alright."

Moments later, Ryan was being gently chided for ruining some expensive carpeting in the condominium hallway with his blood. He was too 'under the influence' to remind his buddies that there was more blood from the men he had shot than from his own.

Outside the room, Yelina confided with Horatio. "The doctors say he should recover from the shoulder wound with no after effects."

"He had us all scared for a while."

After a pause, Horatio went on, "How are you doing Yelina?"

"You mean am I afraid this is going to be you and I all over again?" She was referring to when he had refused her help after he had gotten shot. It had been part of the reason for their second breakup. "No, Horatio. Ryan is a different man from you or from what your brother, Ray, was. He is his own man and yet doesn't mind being taken care of now and then." She said the last in a tone that was almost happy.

Horatio nodded, almost ready to keep his silence. Instead, he asked, "Yelina, have you ever regretted not having more children?"

Yelina's eyes widened at the unexpected question. "Why? Do I sound like I need to mother Ryan?"

Horatio shook his head slowly. "No, that isn't what I meant. I mean, you do sound, well, like you are looking forward to nursing Ryan. I know I fought it and Ryan most likely will not. You are a natural at it though, and I, well, I wondered if you would have liked more children."

If anyone else had asked, Yelina might have been insulted at the exploration into her personal thoughts and feelings; however, this was Horatio, family, brother-in-law, and friend. She felt no hesitation about answering. "Sure, if Ray had lived. I would have loved to have as many kids as possible. I don't think much about it now. Taking care of Ryan now, well, that's just part of the relationship. You never saw it that way." She allowed her eye to twinkle ever so slightly.

"No, I didn't, did I?" Horatio gave Yelina a small, mirthless smile.

The two separated down different hallways to get to their cars.

Yelina had always been glad she had not told Horatio of her decision not to get involved with a Caine man ever again. She would always love Horatio for his kindness and care, but he had a mean streak sometimes. It wasn't as bad as Ray's and didn't surface as often. Still, it hurt just as much. Ryan was so incredibly opposite, she never had a worry that he would ever turn on her.

Horatio's thoughts were being driven in another direction. He was wondering what made men like himself into loners no matter how hard he tried to develop a family. He and his brother had never seen any kind of gentle love expressed between either of his parents. His mother, in desperation, had once tried approaching him when he was a young teen. That had scared him spitless. His first wife's death had put a shadow over his life in New York but then Marisol's murder seemed like the last hope he had ever had of love. He could take care of others, financially anyway, but share love? He wasn't so sure.

"What's the score, gentlemen?" Horatio didn't raise his eyes from his examination of the lab floor.

Eric referred to a sheet of paper. "Ryan and Officer White put down six gang members. Two others were wounded. One more was caught trying to flee and one was wounded and later died in the hospital before he said anything."

Walter continued, "I talked with the two in the hospital. I convinced one he wasn't going to live. Rather than go to meet his maker with all of his crimes hanging over his head, he fessed up to everything from his juvey crimes up to this. I even got him to sign a confession."

Horatio shifted his weight. He quietly asked, "And the other?"

Walter shook his head. "No dice. Says the other guy is lying, says they were hired by the couple on the floor above to protect them from attack. The idea was they were to stay on the floor below to stop anyone from getting up there. He's charging victimization."

Horatio's eyes crinkled as he continued looking downward. "Well, that's unique, to say the least. Be sure he's hauled to booking the second he's released from the hospital.

"Eric, see if Calleigh has any information on where the gang center is. We need to catch Tito Yamaguchi. He set this up so we know what he is capable of."

Walter was already on his cell and Eric pulled his own out to contact Calleigh.

"She said she's already on it. They're in the back of a storefront at a mini-mall. The store is supposedly a computer repair place." Eric didn't sound hopeful.

"Also, she said to tell you that Ian called her. He checked on variations of the Braillsson name in high end condo and mansion sales and found four recently bought." Eric handed over a piece of paper with the names and addresses.

Calleigh laid the laptop on the counter. "I just cain't affo'd a new computah at this time. I'm really hopin' y'all can he'p me." She hoped she wasn't laying the accent on too thick. To counteract it, she smiled and batted her eyes innocently.

The youth behind the counter was black and showed no signs of Asian heritage. Nor did his reply display any interest in her or whether he cared about the computer. "A basic check-out is seventy-five dollars. Any repairs will be extra."

"Oh dear, that is sure mighty expensive. Are you going to be doing the work?"

"No, I just work part time, take in the computers."

Calleigh looked around the young man's shoulders and peered at the curtained entry to the back. "Is the repair person here? Or maybe a manager?"

The late teen glanced at the curtain nervously. "He'll call after he's looked at it, okay?"

Calleigh backed down. "Okay, I guess. Do you know how long it'll take?"

Pulling out a ticket from under the counter, he replied, "Three days. Now, name?"

Calleigh gave both a false name and phone and left the store as soon as she thought it was right.

She drove down the block, parked and got into the Humvee beside Frank. "There's definitely someone in the backroom of the store."

"Okay, I'll give the word." Frank picked up his phone and gave directions to the men lying in wait in the alley at the back of the store.

At the same time, he carefully pulled out into traffic and then sped up to the end of the alley. Ripping around the corner and roaring through the narrow backstreet, the car pulled to a screeching halt in the rear of the store. Climbing down from the hummer, Frank and Calleigh were surrounded by SWAT officers in full gear and regular uniforms in vests.

The surprise on the faces of the gang members who were lolling around the back entrance was almost laughable. Their first impulse was to run and for them to see they were cut off at all angles but up puzzled them. One did try to shinny up an old telephone pole but with no spikes on his boots, all he got was a handful and legs full of splinters as gravity pulled him down.

Moments later, the young black man was being hauled out with two others who didn't look quite like the white and Latino mix of gang members.

Frank grunted. "Which of these don't match?"

Calleigh handed out the last of the strip ties from the back of the car. "I'm guessing they were helping to keep up appearances in the store."

"Not an Asian in the bunch though."

"I bet Yamaguchi is in the wind for now. That's okay. We have his MO. We'll send it out to other major cities. He'll be caught soon enough."

The two watched as the last of the gang was herded into the large transport followed by four heavily armed SWAT members. The doors closed on four faces just begging the shackled prisoners to try anything.

Calleigh's phone rang.

Moments later, after Frank dropped her off at her car, she took a moment to gather herself together. The idea that the rest of the team was on the trail of the Braillssons was very good news. The idea they were doing it without her, hurt. Again and again, she had to tell herself, 'This is a good thing.' Still, that cry in the back of her mind, 'I want my baby!' screeched to drown out the quiet reason.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

As it turned out, Kesselman, who was one of the three involved in Carlos' death, was killed in the hallway. Alcantar, the second involved in his death, was still in the wind. Once Anita had identified Kesselman's body, they at least figured that Alcantar was most likely still around, being harbored by a local Mala Noche group.

"Will you be returning home?"

"I would rather wait for Alcantar to be caught."

"That will take a while."

"I'll treat it as a well-deserved vacation."

"Anything I can do to help with that?" Horatio smiled down at Anita.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Ever been Key hopping?"

"What is that?"

"Traveling the keys of Florida, going from one place to another. Each has a different attraction, a different flavor."

"That sounds like fun. But, don't you have work?"

"I do. Once this case is taken care of, I think I can take some days here and there."

"Is there anything I can do to speed your job along?"

Horatio considered the matter. "Tell you what. Listen in on our kidnap case meeting and throw out thoughts if they occur to you. You don't know the case that well, but any new eyes on what we have or new ideas could be of benefit."

"I'll be glad to help if I can."

Anita felt welcomed by the team as soon as Horatio explained his idea. She, an outsider, had received the redhead's seal of approval. "I'll keep quiet unless I really think I can contribute to the case," she announced.

Walter nodded his head at the array of pictures taken from the time the kidnapping had begun. "If you see anything in the photos you don't understand, be sure to ask. Who knows, we might be assuming something that isn't there. Explaining it could help."

"Okay, what are the cast of characters so far?"

Eric summed it up, "Six months ago, when we realized that Jake's kidnapping wasn't part of the baby-production ring, we had to connect some dots that led us to the Braillsson couple. Since then, they've led us on a merry chase.

"Then Ian, our forensic monetary trail guy, told us he had five names come up that were similar to Braillsson that had recently bought condos or mansions in the Miami area. We already eliminated two and we're setting up surveillance on the remaining three."

"Why would they give up the relative safety of anonymity in a trailer park to go back to their old style of life?"

"We figure they have the god complex that rich people often have. With as much money as they have, they think they can buy anything, including protection from the law, so why live in a dump?"

"I see. Thank you for the information." Anita stepped back out of the circle.

"Gentlemen, what kind of surveillance do we have on these people?" asked Horatio.

Eric pulled up a list on the computer screen. "The usual, three shifts on each, twenty-four seven. The two condos are actually harder to cover because of the various entries into the garages. We don't know exactly how many cars those folks have so we have to photo each car that comes out of the garage for now."

"Ian is working on narrowing down who is who by working on the money trail, where the money came from. He says that an honest trail of money is easy to follow. However, no one with over a half a million dollars in annual income makes their money easy to get to. They want to be anonymous, if possible, and pay as few taxes as possible." The idea was making Walter's basset hound eyes sag just a bit more than usual.

Anita stepped forward. "Is there any record in the condos of what hired help the residents have? I would think that for records in case of fire, they would have to have that."

"And you're thinking that this would lead to what, Anita?" Horatio tilted his head in her direction as he gently asked the question.

"Well, if you could find out who your suspected residents hire, then perhaps an undercover agent could befriend her or them and get more information."

"That's a good idea. Thank you, Anita. I'll get MDPD on it."

Horatio stepped outside into the hallway with his phone to his ear. "Yelina, I would like you to arrange something for me, please."

A few minutes later, he was back in the room catching up on the discussion which had not made much progress.

"Yelina is arranging for some undercover agents to find work in the condos."

Walter's eyes showed understanding. "Oh, yeah, you can't call Frank because it's his kid."

"I think we have gone as far as we can on this at the moment," Horatio said. "For now, this is a sit and wait game. If you think of anything else, be sure to call me. Meanwhile, you can devote some time to anything else on your desks."

The two didn't need a second invitation. Both had plenty of fingerprints, slides and trace evidence to sift through to keep them busy for several hours.

"Shall we get a cup of coffee?" Horatio asked.

Anita had previously commandeered a personal cup from the cupboards in the break room a couple of days ago. "You know, this coffee is very good. Usually work coffee is next to mud in quality and substance."

"We have several coffee connoisseurs who don't let it sit around for very long.

Anita looked around at the various plants on the window sills and in pots on the floors. "They toss the old coffee into the plants. They also put the grounds in. I bet there are plants on the floors below that look just as good."

"No wonder our coffee bill is so high."

"You would rather drink mud?"

Horatio shrugged his shoulders. "Thank you for your help in the layout room."

"You're welcome. I'm sure you would have thought of the idea sooner or later. I just got there first. It is how a woman thinks. If Calleigh could have been here, she would have been ahead of me."

"Which is why I thought you could help. In the past, both Natalia's and Calleigh's experience and feminine points of view have helped us figure out situations faster than when we men work alone."

"Now, what can I do to help you with your paperwork?"

Horatio looked at the woman in surprise.

"You thought I wouldn't think you had paperwork to do? You sure don't have lab work." She wagged a finger at him and spoke with a playfully heavy Spanish accent. "Ah, Señor Rojo, you have underestimated my knowledge of your job."

Horatio stared at her a second and then shrugged. "Follow me please," he said in a sing-song voice indicating she might be sorry.

Fifteen minutes later, Anita was quietly combing through the third file with papers marked with different colored sticky tabs. These she assembled by color, closed and put on the floor. Forty minutes later, she was assembling files by date.

"Having fun yet?" Although Horatio didn't look up from his review of lab reports, he did let the glimmer of a smile light his face.

"From the evidence I have here, I assure you, this service is not going to be a quid pro quo. You can't organize paperwork to save your life."

Still keeping his head down, quickly scribbling his initials, Horatio replied, "Wouldn't, couldn't, happy not to." Horatio put down his pen and leaned back in the chair. He was tired down to his toes and it was barely lunch time.

As if reading his mind, Anita picked up her coffee cup and his. "I could get us more coffee or you could finish up this report and we could take a lunch break."

Horatio pretended to consider her offer, thinking he knew what would happen. It did.

Anita scooped up the two mugs and said, "I'm going to go wash these out. When I return in five minutes, I will remove the pen from your fingers. No excuses please."

The exit from the building did take longer than Anita would have wished. When she left her duty at home to take a lunch break she only had one deputy to check on. Here, Horatio had his entire team of CSIs, including the lab techs, all working on various cases at different levels of completion. He seemed to know the details of each one. To Anita, he asked knowledgeable questions on the smallest details. She could tell he wasn't putting his break off, he was tending to business

Pulling out of the parking structure behind the lab, when Horatio asked if she had a preference in food, he was surprised at her answer.

"Something we can take to your place."

Horatio stared at the road ahead not completely aware of the palm trees, the office buildings or hotels he drove by. Just as Anita was about to repeat what she had said, he said with as much control as he could muster, "Alright." With a slight turn on the red TR-4's wheel he swung the car over three lanes and made a left turn just before the arrow went to red.

"Horatio, you have an incredible place."

"Thank you."

"You must love it here."

Horatio shrugged. "It's a place to sleep, to hang my clothes, not much more."

Anita's mouth dropped open in speechless surprise. She turned and looked at the view of the ocean from his spacious balcony and saw the beach below just footsteps from the building. There it was again, this man who seemed to have all of the best of Miami and yet acted as if he lacked everything. Now she knew why she had suggested the idea of lunch here. She suspected he didn't know how rich his life was and she was right. Every moment with the Lieutenant was a new discovery.

As if anticipating what was to come, Horatio had suggested getting gourmet salads from one of the posh drive thru eateries. Like gourmet food trucks, the drive thru places had exploded in number and quality in Miami. In this case, the salads were only vegetables but of a variety and with a dressing that was incredibly satisfying while not heavy.

They were eating at the small table by the patio door. Both, out of habit because they had careers that demanded them to eat now or perhaps not be able to for a day or two, finished their meals quickly and nearly closed the plastic containers at the same time.

Anita leaned back in the chair briefly before jumping up. "Now, come, take me on a tour of this 'it's only a place to live' home of yours." She grabbed the plastic containers and waited for Horatio to rise.

Passing the kitchen, she dropped the containers in the trash. As she hoped, the bedroom was the last area on the short tour. They ended up at the sliding glass door that led out to a tiny balcony.

Just as he was about to close the door again, she stopped his hand with hers. "No, please. Leave it open for a while."

"And what, Madame Sheriff, is the purpose to that?" Horatio hoped he was reading her signals right but he wanted to make no mistake.

"The cool breeze will feel good coming over the bed."

"I think I remember you saying something to the effect that until I was 'over' a certain romance you weren't going to get involved."

Anita looked through her lashes into the questioning eyes. "I don't really think you will ever get 'over' any liaison you have ever had. You're not that type of man. You were more serious about this last woman than most, but not as serious as your marriages and those ended tragically. I can't say where this will go. For now, I am a woman and I am interested in you as a man. I was hoping you might still have the same interest as you showed last night."

As she spoke, she had slowly raised her arms to Horatio's waist and wrapped them around, pulling herself close to him. Finally she was rubbing his back and looking up.

"I can see now that I will never figure you out. And yes, I am very interested in you as a woman." He bent down and kissed her on the lips putting his own arms around her.

The first kiss was short and experimental. The second was exploratory, tongues tasting delights of recently finished salads, finding the textures of teeth. At the same time, hands explored backs and buttocks and up to backs again.

Kissing his neck, Anita finally whispered, "I don't think we're going to have time to do this right."

"I agree," Horatio whispered as he hungrily nibbled at her neck.

"I'm good with a quickie if you are." Her breath came quickly, her voice was a hoarse whisper.

Not certain he knew what she meant, he answered, "Sure."

Before he knew it, she had drawn him to a wall. He opened his slacks and shorts felt for the growing penis inside. Meanwhile, using her other hand Anita stepped out of one leg of her slacks and panties. She wrapped the bare leg around his hips. Now, in no doubt, he shoved his weight against her to brace her and entered her. He felt that first wondrous sensation of warmth and softness and welcome. He heard her gasp just before she buried her head in his neck. Her body leaned into his and pulled at him. He felt the automatic reflex of his butt muscles thrusting his pelvis at her. After a while, it was hard for him to tell who was pushing, him or her. He wanted to feel more of her, her breasts, her bare back and yet he was committed to what he had. Instead he leaned his weight against one hand while he cupped one of her butt cheeks with the other to steady her. A short time later, she moaned and froze as her vaginal muscles went into spasms. He never had a woman come so quickly or so strongly. Then he sank briefly into his own oblivion.

As they both sagged, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Anita giggled, leaning to one side, one arm still holding onto his waist. She gasped, "Madre Mia! Am I ever!"

"No regrets?"

"Why? Are you sorry already?"

Horatio could tell Anita wasn't entirely kidding as she pulled up her slacks and rushed to the bath room. He went into the kitchen and pulled out a paper towel while he found the right answer for her edged question.

When she came out he was leaning against the kitchen lunch counter where stools should have been. She came up to him and allowed him to hold her hand which gave him courage to speak. "Not only do I have no sorrow about what we just did, I enjoyed it immensely. I was just hoping you did too, alright?"

Anita's head gently wagged side to side as her eyes slowly closed and opened a smile on her lips. "Yes, I did. It's just that I am afraid I was pushy and I might have pulled you in too fast."

Horatio gave Anita a brief hug. "I'm a big boy and when I make a damn fool move, I own it and try not to do it again. I said I had no regrets and I meant it."

"Hey, is that your cell?"

The sound was muffled because it was under several layers of coat laid over the back of the couch.

"That was quick, Yelina. Thank your team and thank you. And tell Ian thanks as well."

He grabbed his jacket and slipped into it. "It seems that two more of the candidates have been eliminated."

"Who is left?"

"The mansion on Fisher Island."

"Well fortified I bet?"

As he opened the door, he replied, "To the hilt.

"Look, we'll continue our conversation soon. I can see we have some areas we could explore."

"Areas we will definitely explore and some things to talk about."

Closing the door to his condo, Horatio took a few seconds to memorize Anita's behind and the way she walked down the hall to the elevators. Oddly, it was not a feminine walk but more of a masculine stride. He briefly speculated how such eager sexiness could come from a woman so deeply involved in a masculine based world. The combo definitely worked for her.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

A few hours later, the team including Yelina was looking at aerial photos of the mansion where the Braillssons were suspected to be currently residing. Fisher Island was inside the mouth of an inlet and the home was on the seaward facing side.

"The bad part is that Fisher Island has no roads from the mainland."

"That could also be the good part, wouldn't you think Yelina?" Horatio was standing sideways, squinting his eyes in speculation as he examined the array laid out on the table.

Yelina thought for a moment. "You mean this limits their escape routes?"

Eric noted, "Here is a helicopter pad in the front, but we didn't see one. With their money, they could probably call for one like a taxicab."

Walter continued, pointed at one picture. "There's also a pier with access to the open ocean. We would have to somehow commandeer that area as well."

"And every other pier by every other house Walter. I also wouldn't doubt they have a safe room with supplies to hold out for days plus easy access to the outside." Horatio raised worried eyes.

"If they have nothing more than a rubber boat, they could launch from any part of the beach." Eric rubbed his darkly shadowed chin.

"So far, the stakeout crews haven't seen little Jake. But then, they think most of the coming and going is by their boat to the mainland. We tried staking out the boat and following it but apparently they use a private boat rental with its own pilot and they rent a car. The boat goes to any of several locations and then, another private water service picks up at yet another place."

"Is there a nanny?"

"We think so." Yelina's curly hair bounced as she spoke. "We have done as many flyovers as we dare without raising their or the neighbors' suspicions and have seen figures on the beach, down from the house, but since they wear hats we can't tell if it is the neighbors or them."

"What's the name they are using here?" asked Eric.

"Branson," Yelina replied.

Eric shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, well, close enough I guess. Malovasic set up several false identities before he was killed. I wonder what they are going to do if they need another identity."

Horatio leaned in sideways and whispered, "Let's see to it that the only new identity they will ever need is a prison number."

Promising to return in hopes of hearing a plan in the works, Horatio left the room.

He found Anita in the break room sipping from a coffee mug.

"I'm afraid I may have some bad news, Anita."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Alcantar may have been involved in the Malovasic murder."

"What proof is there?"

"Right now, only the word of one of the surviving gang members involved at the condo shootout. The procedure is that each one will have to go through a deposition. The problem is Alcantar may think it is wiser to go to jail in the US than in Mexico. If so, he'll confess whether he was involved or not."

"But you have the death penalty, no?"

"With years of appeals, he could be an old man before he gets the needle."

"Horatio, this is so unfair!"

"Yes, it is. However, let's not count the chickens yet. It could be that Alcantar's lawyer doesn't so far know about the charges from Mexico. This leaves only Alcantar deciding what he wants to do and that might work in your favor."

"How long does this moment come for his decision?"

"You mean the deposition? It could be a month. The prosecution will want to get their case organized, decide on what questions to ask."

Anita cocked an eyebrow. "Is that all? At home we could wait nearly a year just to get things started."

"I wouldn't depend on that time frame. It could take longer. I'm giving an educated guess from past experience."

"Then, I will stay until I am out of vacation money. After that, I'll fly home and return when and if extradition is possible.

"By the way, how are the plans going for the recovery of Calleigh's child?"

"We're in the planning stages right now. They look good."

"I wish I could help. As it is, I'm going to call home and see how things are going there."

"We'll talk later," he said with a little more meaning than he intended. He walked her to the foot of the short flight of stairs to his office.

"Sure," she replied trying not to sound overjoyed at the prospect.

Horatio returned to the conference.

Before he could open his mouth, Yelina stepped out of the circle around the table leaving Walter and Eric and pulled Horatio back into the hallway.

"I just received a strange phone call from downstairs. Someone named Jaime says we're holding his uncle's body. A young lady is with him."

"Did he say that his uncle's name was Malovasic?"

Briefly searching her short term memory, she nodded. "That sounds right."

Horatio unconsciously brought his right hand to his forehead as he stared down at the floor. 'Here it goes,' he thought. Then pulling down at this jaw, he shifted gears. "Uh, okay. Yelina, you and Eric and Walter keep working on a plan for the mansion. Call me."

Wide eyed, surprised that Horatio would walk away from such an important mission twice in half an hour, Yelina watched her brother-in-law stride to the elevators. "Okay, I'll call you."

"Dr. Loman, the family member is here."

Dr. Tom Loman heard Horatio's disembodied voice echo through the examination room. Laying down his instrument, he removed the blood spattered cuffs and apron and left the dissection table. After a brief walk down a near featureless hall he paused to look at himself in a mirror set up for the purpose, assured himself there was no visible blood and walked into the body-viewing room. Pressing a button, he said into the speaker, "I'm here Horatio."

"I think they are as ready as they can be."

Hearing that, Tom drew the string on the curtain and stood aside with his head bowed, one hand clasping the other. Although the figure on the table had been an object of interest to Tom, he knew that this was the embodiment of a living person to the one on the other side of the glass.

As usual, the young man's face first showed recognition and then horror when he realized he was seeing death itself. Then the boy's head jerked ever so slightly to the side as he heard Horatio ask the inevitable question and finally, there was that nod. It was always the same gesture everyone gave when asked if they recognized the body. The eyebrows would fight for space over the bridge of their nose, their mouth would bunch a bit and finally they would leave just as this one did. As soon as he saw the young man move off and Horatio signal, he closed the curtain, released the brake on the gurney and wheeled it through the swinging doors back into the morgue. He called a couple of helpers to move the body back onto a shelf in the cold room. Donned once again in his dissection gear, he forgot the previous few moments. He only dwelled on the relatives' memories of the dead if it was useful to a solution to the death of the subject at hand.

Upstairs, Horatio escorted Jaime and the girl, who gave her name as Sarafina, into an interview room.

"I called their house from the bus station for over an hour and wondered why Tio Pedro didn't answer. We finally put our luggage in a locker and found a bus schedule and then walked the rest of the way. I knew something was wrong when I saw all that yellow tape."

"My condolences for your loss Jaime. I know this isn't a very good time for questions, but the sooner we get all information possible, the sooner we can convict your uncle's murderers. We're pretty sure who did it and why but any verification would help."

"Who would want to kill him?" Jaime had the eyes of an abandoned child who's been left with only his favorite teddy bear for comfort.

This was that god-awful part of his job that he hated. "Did you know your cousin, Tad, was involved in selling drugs?"

Jaime's look of surprise was a little too forced. Horatio decided to wait to see how far the young man was going to carry the ruse. "You know he was in competitive swimming, don't you?"

"Oh yes, I knew that. He was very doing very well from what he said."

"Well, I guess he wanted to do better. He began taking both steroids and uppers. Do you know what they are?"

By this time the two were speaking in Spanish to speed up the conversation. Horatio didn't think Jaime even noticed the switch. Sarafina did and kept her intense eyes on Horatio's face.

"Yes, I know what those drugs do. They are illegal in the States, yes?" Now the young man was searching the room for possible escape routes.

"They are. Worse, Tad was selling those drugs to his teammates and that is a very bad crime here. Unfortunately, he did not collect any money from his friends. Now, what I want to know is, did he ever say anything about this to you? Perhaps he said he was scared that someone might want to hurt him?"

Jaime swallowed hard and looked down through the transparent table to his hands buried in between his legs. Sarafina looked at him and back to Horatio, worry plainly written on her features.

"Jaime, I know why you are here. It wasn't just to visit your uncle. In La Cancion, Sarafina has relatives in the Mala Noche."

A look of panic raced into the pretty young girl's features.

"You have been dating her and they don't like it so they put a hit out on you. I think you knew it was Carlos, the Sheriff's brother, who was supposed to make his bones by killing you. I even think Carlos might have told you to get out of town."

Jaime shrank into himself as the words rained down on him cowering like a wet dog in a storm with no place to hide.

"One thing I don't think you know, Jaime, is that Carlos was killed. That was his punishment for not carrying out his orders." By this time, Horatio had approached the table, getting closer to his subject.

Jaime raised his head. The truly horrified expression on his face verified that his previous reaction had been an act.

"Two members of that gang came to Miami partly to look for you and partly to take care of another bit of business."

Now it was Sarafina's turn to realize she probably knew more than she should. She sought out Jaime's hand as her increased breathing rasped in and out.

"The good news is that one of the gang members is dead."

Jaime looked to his girlfriend and then up to the intense face hanging over him with a waiting-for-other-shoe-to-drop expression.

"The bad news is we don't know where the other team member is."

Jaime looked around the room, examined the corners, seemed to take visual measurements of the table before he spoke. "Señor, do I need a lawyer?"

If Horatio hadn't been in 'cop' mode, he would have burst out laughing. This kid had watched far too many American police dramas.

"No, Jaime, you aren't being charged with anything. We would like you to be honest with us about what you know about Tad's activities and with whom. We think we know who the culprits are, but if you know anything your testimony would help put them in prison. Also, in exchange, we can offer protection for you against the Mala Noche."

He then nodded at the girlfriend. "Sarafina, may I ask what you know about the ones who were sent to find Jaime?"

Sarafina looked questioningly at Jaime. He nodded encouragingly at her and gave a squeeze to her hands.

Turning her brown eyes to Horatio, she answered, "I only know that Donato and Marco have special reasons to want to find the man who sells the guns that blow up. I don't know what that is. Killing my Jaime is just family business to them."

"What about Tinoco? How involved was he?"

The girl's face hardened. "Him? He's a punk, a baby. He still drools when he eats. I know he might have hurt Carlos but that little coward can't kill right yet."

"No, Serafina! Don't talk like that!" Jaime roughly pulled the girl's head to his chest. "Please, she doesn't mean what she is saying."

If ever there was the look of a 'stranger in a strange land' Jaime's face carried it. He was alone, in trouble and now his mob-moll girlfriend was running off at the mouth. How can a young man not yet twenty-five make decisions under such circumstances?

Deciding to overlook Serafina's lapse in manners, Horatio said, "Jaime, I'm going to step outside for a moment. I'll return shortly."

Moments later, Horatio entered the room with Anita. Jaime and Sarafina both nearly jumped to their feet.

Anita spoke rapidly in Spanish. "Don't worry Jaime, I am here to help. Sit down and listen to what Lieutenant Caine has to say."

The electricity in the room slowed from a crackle to a steady static as nerves calmed to a hum.

Satisfied that they were receptive to his advice, the detective nodded as he spoke. "Jaime, I have called an agency that will be sending someone here shortly. That person will explain what we need from you and what you will get in return. If you have any doubts about what you hear, take my card and ask to call me." He handed Jaime one of his cards. "Meanwhile, please consider whether you want to testify."

Anita sat down, nodding her head. "You remember when we all thought Geraldo was killed and then found he was El Assesino, head of the Mala Noche in La Cancion? Remember I left town for a while? Well, I came here for protection and to testify. You will be protected for the same reason."

"Anita, do you think you can handle this? I have some other business to attend to."

"I will call if I have any questions," she said over her shoulder.

Anita expected a reply and didn't hear one. She only knew he had left because she watched Jaime's and Sarafina's eyes follow his path as they watched through the glass walls. She was getting used to this kind of departure and liked it. This was Horatio's way of showing he was assured the job would be handled by someone he trusted and why not? She knew what she was doing.

For his part, among other things, Horatio was setting his hat for a man who considered murder to be a matter of family business.

"What do we have?" Horatio asked as he entered the layout room.

Eric pointed at one of the aerial photos of the house. "We think we have the beginnings of a plan. One thing Walter noticed is this bit of trail that seems to lead from a bunch of bushes at the side of the house. The bushes are away from the house and don't seem to have any walkway access from the house. There aren't any doors on that side either."

Horatio stared at the photo. "So why a trail that seems to lead from nowhere?"

Walter said, "You know, one thing that has always struck me about safe rooms is that there is never any second exit. I mean, suppose the bad guys burn the house down or just move in and wait for supplies in the safe room to expire while they hold off any outside threat? I keep thinking there could be a whole lot of reasons to need to get out by some other method than the interior door. Suppose this house has one of those?"

"With a tunnel that leads to the bushes here," Yelina chimed in.

"The trail is barely noticeable so it hasn't been used much. More than likely, Braillsson scouted it out a few times deciding on the best escape plan. I bet we could cut that trail off with no problem and eliminate at least one route of getaway."

"If we could trap them in there, we could take our sweet time breaking in."

"I hope it won't come to that. They might be driven to do something to Jake." Yelina's eyes were filled with alarm.

"Not to worry. We aren't going to make any moves until we know exactly how to get Jake out safely. This is just the beginning of our plans." Horatio's face took on the look of a dog concentrating on a meaty bone.

Moments later, Calleigh caught Horatio striding down the hall. "Horatio, we have a match on the fingerprint we found on the doorbell at the Malovasic home. The last person to touch it was one of the kids we got in the back of the computer store."

"Good. Would you please call Frank and see if he has found any information about the Yamaguchi kid? As you suspected, he is in the wind and we need to reel him in before he orders anymore destruction."

"With pleasure." Calleigh was still haunted by the gruesome scene in and around the pool. She wanted very much to find the mastermind of it all.

"Horatio, I have to return home."

"What's wrong, Anita?"

Anita turned her head back and forth as her fingers tried to hold it steady by the temples. "For one, we have Tinoco under arrest. He was found with the knife and Suarez matched it with the wounds. Then there's the usual mierda. Some guy was found dead in the grape fields while his girlfriend was sleeping beside him. She says she doesn't know how it happened? How can that be? Then Tia Mirabel is going crazy for lack of something to do. The men at the station won't let her bring meals anymore. I know it's because she hangs around practically wiping their mouths after each bite, moaning over Carlos. It's her way."

"When do you leave?"

"I have a flight at seven in the morning."

After a long pause, Horatio quietly asked, "Would you like to check out of your hotel early and spend the night with me?"

Anita's answering gaze told him all he needed to know.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Dinner for the two was again brought in but this time it was more elaborate and accompanied by a bottle of fine red wine. Horatio had called ahead to his favorite Cuban restaurant where, they were so familiar with his practice, a man was standing on the curb waiting to hand the bags to him.

As had become their habit, the conversation over the meal was shop talk combined with bits of personal information. Unlike Horatio's cop-father background, Anita hadn't really known what she was getting into.

"I knew I wanted to be in the police, put criminals in jail, run after them, shoot a gun, all that. I had no idea what it would all mean to me, to my life. I can't imagine going home and talking about this kind of work."

"If you had children, would you let them know what you did every day?" Horatio swirled the deep red pinot noir under his nose before taking a sip.

Anita's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the question.

Horatio continued. "I don't think any of us really know what being a cop means when we're sworn in. If we're from a cop family, we might know the hours are long and irregular, that parents work on holidays and usually miss our ball games, concerts, recitals. The closest any of us get to reality is when mom or dad winds up in the hospital or comes home with an arm in a sling or worse."

"Are you glad you don't have any children?"

Horatio's face went blank for a moment before he leaned back in his chair and took a breath. He decided to just say it. "Actually, I do. I have a son. He didn't grow up with me though. Now he lives on his own and seems to be doing well."

"Where does he live?"

"Here in Miami. We see each other two or three times a week."

Horatio rose and gathered the plates. Anita took the rest.

Setting the dishes to air dry after washing, they strolled to the end of the patio balcony and watched the eastern sky darken as the sun set behind Miami. Anita let herself be taken by the charm of the scenery, the fresh scent of the sea on the breeze, the faint twinkle of stars as they appeared one by one. Horatio let himself drink in Anita's charms.

For the occasion, Anita had taken her hair down out of its bun at the back of her neck. She wore the one extra blouse she had brought that wasn't a shirt. The gold and black leopard spots against the tan background complimented her coloring to perfection and the deep neck showed off her other allures as well.

Setting his half full glass on the floor, he took Anita's nearly full glass from her. He purposefully set her glass beside his and said, "This time, let's see how the conversation goes without the help of wine."

He took her in his arms to kiss her. He wasn't surprised to feel her arms reach around back and pull him against her. Here was a woman who had no problems with expressing her sensual desires.

In the bedroom, a few moments later, the two were clawing at each other's clothes and at their own, in a race to divest themselves as quickly as possible. At the same time their breathing remained slow and deliberate as they kissed anywhere that became exposed. There was no pausing before they lay on the bed, no drinking in the new sight of the lover's body. Both had spent time from the beginning of their reunion assessing what might lie under the clothing. Now, they were only intent on enjoying the delights.

Horatio was glad to find that Anita was in no great rush, glad for their lunch time tryst. Not that he didn't want her, didn't want to conquer her, plunge into her, satisfy his growing lust. Nor was he planning to take his time for her benefit. This time, it was a case of wanting to enjoy her for his own pleasure. He wanted to taste her, touch her, explore her curves and creases. He wanted to hear the music of her sighing moans, feel the curve of her muscles as they stiffened under her silky skin, to capture her as she wriggled in joy under his touch. He also wanted to open himself up for her, invite her onto his body. They had the time now and who knows when it would come again.

Anita was in no doubt about wanting to have an evening of sex with Horatio. Would there be anything beyond that? Could there be? She switched that part of her mind off and lived in the moment. She watched Horatio's fine gold-red hair as his head moved down as he worked his mouth from her neck to her breasts. She ran her hand over his arm covered in golden hairs and took note of the freckles that decorated his body. She lost track of everything when he found the first place that she had almost forgotten about, the one that seemed connected to the area between her legs. She felt her hips rise from the bed in response as she gasped in delight. There were several places more after that always resulting in a sharp intake of breath and sometimes a giggle as well.

Later, when Anita had the chance to take control, she was surprised that he let her. She didn't have to fight overeager advances, arms pulling her to reach his own satisfaction. Instead, he closed his eyes and lay back with a half-smile on his face. Occasionally he would let out a sound she could only identify as a purr. It wasn't a small sound like a cat or what she imagined a lion would sound like if that creature purred; it was rather something in between, deep and soft at the same time and a delight to hear. What she discovered about him was that in her small experience of lovers, he was truly wonderful.

A second or perhaps an eternity later, both woke, wrapped in each other's arms. There was no need to ask how the other was doing.

When they parted at the Miami Airport, Anita promised to return and take Horatio up on his invitation to Key hop. Not knowing what kind of cameras might be around, they contented themselves with meaningful smiles as they parted.

Once Anita was watching the ground recede, she mused on whether she would ever see Horatio again, ever spend night like last. She yawned, feeling the lack of sleep. Leaning back, she wondered what she wanted in her life. A partnership between them would mean change. Could she leave her career? On the other hand, could they keep up a long distance relationship until one or the other retired? Did she want a man in her life? Knowing a little of his history with women, she wondered whether he really wanted one in his life? She shook her head sharply. At this point, it was what she wanted, not him. Whether she would figure it out and get it were two questions yet to be dealt with.

Oddly, in the lab, no one had reason to question any haggard look in Horatio's face; there wasn't one. Nearly a full night of lovemaking was as good as several nights of solid sleep any time.

"Welcome back Mr. Wolfe."

Looking a bit tired, his arm in a sling, Ryan smiled. "Thanks H, it's good to be back. I'm afraid it'll be a while before I'm back in the field."

"No worries. There is always lab work."

Ryan nodded around and then down at the table, "The guys are catching me up on this."

"We would appreciate any ideas you can come up with."

"The latest report is that the nanny takes Jake out for a walk on the beach about seven thirty each morning. She either walks in the surf or, in colder weather, on the sand. She goes no more than a hundred feet from the house in either direction." Yelina pointed out the stairway from the deck at the back of the large house with the stairway leading from the beach.

Ryan stated the obvious. "There are no accesses from the sides of the house or the three homes on either side of this one. Then there's open beach in either direction and she would see anyone running. We wouldn't get to her before she made a beeline into the back door. The best we have is an empty lot north of the third door down."

"Yeah, even if we went for her at the point farthest from the house, she would see it." Eric's surly voice showed he was frustrated at how long it had taken to get this far.

Suddenly there was a noise coming from the direction of the hallway.

"Ow! Let me go! You're hurting me." The glass walls uncharacteristically rang with the volume.

"Excuse me." Horatio stepped out into the hallway.

"Shut up! You don't know what hurt is yet!"

Struggling in the firm grasp of both Calleigh and Frank was a slightly built Asian looking man of about thirty or so.

Seeing Horatio, Calleigh spoke over the loud objections. "We decided to bring him up here since it is part of our case."

"This, I take it, is Mr. Yamaguchi?"

Frank jerked at the man's arm. "Loud mouth is what I'd call him."

"Where did you find him?"

"Believe it or not, he was hiding out in his mamma's house. The man is thirty-two, fer god sake, and he ran home!"

"The rest of the gang is fairly young, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Like the rest, he was in and out of juvey since he was nine. By the last time he got out, he'd never done hard time but got his wrists slapped for petty theft of computer parts a whole bunch. He also kept trying to start his own gangs so he could play gang leader"

"Oh?" Horatio's smile invited more information.

"Would you believe one gang was called 'No Bitches'? And he was twenty at the time."

"So, we have a Peter Pan here."

All this time, Horatio was giving Yamaguchi an appraising stare noting that he had quieted.

Frank looked at his longtime friend in bafflement at his last remark then looked at his charge and back to Horatio. "Uh, I'm going to take him to an interrogation room."

Horatio would have bet anything the man was going to lawyer up at the first question. Not that it would do him any good. They had confessions from several gang members.

Horatio wondered how many people who knew about Peter Pan realized the 'boy who never wanted to grow up' was older than all of the rest of his band and, in a way, was a kind of father figure to them. In this case, father had led his 'boys' astray in the worst kind of way.

Knowing another case was on its way to being closed, Horatio returned to the layout room.

"H, what do you think of the idea of a SEAL team lying in wait in the water?"

"SWAT isn't trained for diving?"

Eric shook his head. "Nah, strictly land. SEALs can do water and land."

"Well, let's keep that in mind."

"I'll contact the naval station in Pensacola and see what they could do for us if we need them."

"Any alternatives?"

Yelina shook her head. "Not so far. It looks like Jake never leaves the property. The Braillssons go out singly but not together. If we caught one, the other could still do harm to little Jake." Her face showed alarm at the very thought.

"Let's find out who sold them the house. Maybe the realtor would know something more than we do."

"I'll call," said Ryan.

"I'll see what I can find out about the SEALs doing something for us.

Walter picked up one of the photos. "I'm going to blow this up to see if I can figure out exactly where this trail starts. The more we know about any escape hatch, the better."

Yelina reached for her phone. "I'm going to join the next surveillance team. I want to figure out what their warning system is. If we can by-pass it in some way, we might be able to sneak up on them before they know what's happening."

Horatio glanced up and advised, "Take Vince with you. His technical knowledge might be of some help."

"I'll do that."

Giving the photos one more glance, Horatio left the room.

Standing in the lab's center, tentatively touching his left forefinger, he tried to concentrate on the day's work. He really needed to consider the team's suggestions. Somehow, he couldn't. No, not somehow, he couldn't concentrate because of Anita's departure. Although there was no emotional bond between them, he believed that one could develop. Had he already scared her off like the rest? Her reasons sounded plausible. After all, she was an experienced town sheriff and her men had come across a problem they couldn't handle. No doubt, if she could not return to the town, another department, perhaps from Mexico City would take the case and thus the credit for any solution. No one liked to have their work taken away. She had to go. And she also had family. Yes, all very credible.

Unbidden, Horatio's mind fled to the sweet comfort of the night before. Both had sworn it would mean nothing, both had done everything to please the other's body. He still felt the softness of the sides of her breasts against his lips, the flair of her hips against his hand. Did she yet feel him in her? And then finally, sated, they lay back, wrapped in each other's arms, speaking quietly of nothing and everything.

"Horatio?"

He wondered how long she had been calling his name.

"You must have been a million miles away."

"Not quite, Calleigh, not quite. What can I do for you?"

"Tito lawyered up. We're going to let him sit and stew until someone from the State's Attorney Office shows up."

"Good idea."

"Meanwhile I'll go over our evidence. I'll make sure the statements from the gang members are straight and double check that fingerprint."

"It's slim evidence." Horatio looked at Calleigh sideways, his head bent forward.

Calleigh shrugged. "I know. Let's just hope that Jaime's testimony does the trick."

"Indeed."

The ensuing silence showed that Calleigh wanted very much to ask that forbidden question, the one about her son.

Rather than say anything out loud, Horatio nodded his head ever so slightly once.

Satisfied, Calleigh turned and went to her section of the lab.

'Strange,' Horatio mused, 'how an attachment so distant as being a godfather means so very much to me.' But then, Calleigh was as close to being a sister as Yelina, his dead brother's widow, was. He loved them as he might true blood sisters. He loved his god children just as he loved his son Kyle, his nephew Ray Jr., and his illegitimate niece, Madison. He had a deep need to love and care for others.

He pulled out his phone.

A moment later, "Anita, I just wanted to be sure you got home alright."

"I did Horatio. How sweet of you to call."

"How are things at home?"

"Not as much of a mess as I feared. Justino was transported to Mexico City so, no worries there. I'm thinking the dead kid in the vineyard woke up in the middle of the night to go answer nature's call. He was killed out there and then, for some reason, dragged back to where his girlfriend slept. Once I get the outline of what happened, I think the deputies can handle the rest."

"And how is Tia Mirabel?"

Anita giggled. "Poor dear. The neighbors are tired of her moaning and crying. I have called in one of my other aunts to be with her and given her instructions to call in the next one when she can't take anymore.

"Meanwhile, I'm holding her hand, ordering lunches for the officers, pointing out places in the house she forgot to dust, plants that need watering in the courtyard."

"It sounds like you have things well in hand."

"I take it as it comes."

"I'll call you about Alcantar when I know anything."

"Thank you."

"Via con Dios."

"Hasta la vista," she answered.

As he pocketed his phone, Horatio hoped the ending remark (until I see you) was true.

Later that afternoon, Yelina and Vince returned. Horatio met them in the IT room, Vince's primary domain.

"A few minutes ago, a helicopter made another pass over the houses there. It is equipped to pick up electronic signals which should tell us what kind of alarms they have and where the connections are."

Vince pulled up a map close-up of the house and then listened on his Bluetooth connection. "Okay, here it is."

He typed a code and an overlay of lines appeared over the map. Typing as he spoke, he said, "There is one set of lines that are just the electrical wiring original to the home. I'm going to delete those. This should leave us with whatever was added after. Okay, this is a line dedicated to the pool and the hot tub so that can go. The one for the outside lights can go. This one opens and closes the gate but I'll leave it in because we might need to know that. The remaining lines are for what I think is the safe room here," he pointed to a pattern of squares, "and then the rest are the alarms. You can see a line around the front wall, one around the beach access perimeter and then around the immediate house. From the looks of it, it's a combination of pressure plates at strategic points and laser around the outside and then pressure plates and electronic interruption at the windows and doors.

Horatio watched the seventy-two inch screen intently for a few minutes until he was sure he could see what the lines meant. Then he pointed at a place where the lines met at the side exterior of the house. "Vince, what is this?"

"Ah, there is a fly in the ointment. That looks like a generator. If the power from the street was to be cut, then the generator would kick on. This is a monster too. Most puppies this size are designed to run on a propane gas supply. If it only runs the safe room and the alarm system, it could run for several months."

Horatio's eyes lit up as he quietly asked, "But not if the gas supply were cut off."

Yelina recognized the look. "What are you thinking, Horatio?"

"Doing this in two stages; first, we figure out the best way to get Jake without bringing harm to him. Then, as soon as we have him, we drop several men by helicopter on that side of the house who can disconnect the gas to the emergency generator. As soon as they have that done, it should be a cake walk."

He picked his phone out of his pocket and pressed a familiar number. "Eric, bring Ryan and Walter with you to the IT room, please."

The hours flew by as plans were laid and died in the egg. Walter existed on corn nuts. Eric and Walter made calls to explain why they couldn't make it to the evening plans. Lottie was reading for her first police exams and Maxine understood all too well. Their men's sweet words and promises of making up for it were met with wishes that they stay safe.

At last, a plan was conceived. After examining it from all sides, with Vince showing alternatives to every failure, the idea seemed like it would live.

They all dragged themselves out of the building around two in the morning, hoping that in the next thirty-six hours, Jake would be in Calleigh's arms.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The minute Calleigh entered the lab the next morning, she felt 'it'. There was something going on. What it was, she couldn't tell. Everyone appeared normal. Ryan was working with his good hand, examining slides at his counter, Eric was running fingerprints, and Walter was standing in the lab center, showing Horatio some reports. She threw a look at Maxine who quickly gave her a bright eyed smile and then looked away in that fashion she had when she wanted to say something and knew she shouldn't. Travers gave her an anxious look and nearly missed the mouth of the beaker into which he was pouring a clear liquid.

Shrugging off the feeling as 'that time of the month' approaching, she went into Vince's domain to ask him a question about her home computer. He turned when he heard her footsteps and then when he saw who it was, his demeanor changed. He turned back to his keyboard and in a quick jab, the mysterious design on the smaller monitor on his desk disappeared. Turning back, he greeted her with, "Oh, uh, hey Cal, what can I do you for?"

"What up?" She nodded at the monitor.

"Oh, that? I was just playing around with alarm layouts and connections on my new condo."

Calleigh knew that was a lie but with no proof, she wasn't going to challenge him. "I see. Well, I have something that isn't work related as well."

Moments later, her computer dilemma answered with careful instructions, she walked to her desk. She donned the white lab coat with her last name embroidered in blue on the left breast pocket. While she did so, she considered the matter of what might be going on. Vince's reaction was not normal. For one, he enjoyed forensic computer work far too much to choose to do anything else in the lab. He had darkened the monitor too quickly to be a non-work related matter. Next, there was his nervous reaction as if he feared she had seen something.

Fear! The thought of the word turned her to ice. No, it couldn't be that bad. Her eyes nervously sought out the flash of red gold about six feet off the ground. He was at his usual place talking on his phone. Wouldn't he have talked to her by now if that is what it was?

She took a breath and forced her mind to a calmer path. If anything had happened to Jake, Horatio would have made sure she knew first, not after the rest of the team. So, what was going on? To completely remove her mind from the worry, she decided to see what clues she could find. A 'feeling' wasn't good enough.

Her first target was Eric. They knew as much about each other as two friends possibly could.

"What's up Cal?"

"Just doing my job. What are you doing now?"

"Putting fingerprints into AFIS. The police picked up the kids that Tad sold drugs to. They have been processed so I have theirs to do. Then, there's Tad's even though he died before he got caught. Then all of the Three-sixers we caught. Most of them are already in the system. And of course, Tito."

"Did his lawyer ever show up?"

Eric turned to another terminal and punched in some information. "Uh, yeah. He was arraigned last night and denied bail."

Calleigh mused, "I wonder how Peter Pan is going to feel when he's in a cell with Captain Hook?"

Eric turned a puzzled, crooked grin on the blonde. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, just something Horatio said."

Then Calleigh asked the question she wanted an answer to. "Is anything else going on? I left the lab a little early yesterday."

The reaction from Eric was exactly what she hoped she wouldn't see. His 'tell' when he was fibbing was to look quickly past her left shoulder, then drop his eyes before steading his gaze an area somewhere at her chin level. That all took maybe a microsecond of time.

"Not that I know of Cal. We're settling down into the same old stuff."

"Alright, then, I'll see you later."

She went through the same routine with Ryan and Walter and got the same amount of fibbing with varying degrees of waffling.

"Horatio, what is going on?"

His first impulse was to counter with the question about what could be going on. "Calleigh, I can't tell you but I think you can guess."

Calleigh blinked her blue-green eyes. "When?"

"Not sure yet. Very soon is all I can say."

Calleigh nodded once and walked away. Inside, she was vibrating with excitement, hoping she knew what he couldn't say. She was tempted to call Lupe and tell her to get the new things out for Jake. They had always continued to buy two of the new clothing for Frank, Jr. They were always in hope. She refrained from picking up her phone. No use getting her expectations up until he was in her arms. Besides, Horatio had only said soon. She also decided not to call Frank for the same reason.

The next afternoon, Horatio was shaking hands with the head of the small SEAL team sent from Pensacola's Naval Training Base.

Lieutenant Commander Fallers' dark skin made his khaki dress uniform look like a white man's pallor where the sun hadn't reached.

Horatio led the formally stiff man with the close cropped hair to the IT lab.

"This is this morning's video of the nanny with the child we believe is our target. As you can see, she wanders over a two hundred foot path for at least half an hour, stopping here and here. The temperature was warm this morning, so she went into the water and put the child's feet into the water for a few minutes. We're supposing the child can stand on his own with some help, perhaps walk with help."

"And you want us to take the target?" The man's body remained at attention while he nodded his head at the screen.

"With no harm to him. We would even rather you don't harm the woman."

"Rather, meaning if push comes to shove, sacrifice her to save the child."

Horatio spoke as gently as he could while correcting the man's assumptions. "There should be no sacrificing at all. We believe she is innocent in this matter and I think you can separate the two easily enough. Then you can take them both on different paths to us in the street. The question I have is, how are you going to get to them in the first place?"

The man smiled with confidence. "That's the easy part, Sir. We take a rubber raft to a couple of thousand feet from the location before sunrise. The raft goes back while we proceed underwater to the shoals. The color of our suits will allow us to blend in with the bottom sand. Between the light reflecting from the water and the self-breathing apparatus, we can get within five feet of the target without detection. We'd be up and surrounding those two before the woman knows what's happening."

"That sounds good. Here is the GPS location for the point furthest to the north of the house. There is an empty lot giving access to the street three lots north from there. Now, we have to figure out where to take the child and the nanny."

"With the primary target in arms and in full gear, any of us can run three-point-two miles per hour. We can be behind that line of houses in less than a minute and a half and in the street thirty seconds later. We can take the woman between two of us and make it to the street by going to the opposite side of that lot taking thirty seconds longer."

Horatio looked at the monitor and considered Fallers' words as his mind ran through information his team had gathered that he didn't think necessary to share with the SEAL commander. Seeing no conflict with the what he knew he nodded.

"Take down time should be at seven-forty in the morning."

"We'll be there."

Shaking hands, Fallers said, "It will be an honor to be of service, Sir."

Horatio followed the man to the elevators. Once the doors were closed he went into the layout room. Most of the photos had been replaced with new ones plus schematics. Vince had replaced Ryan.

"The first part of the operation is in place. Eric, is the helicopter crew ready?"

"They'll be in place by four in the morning on the golf course in the center of the island. At seven forty-five, they'll take off and, providing they have word, they'll descend to drop off three men on the side of the house. Those men will disable the backup generator."

Horatio raised his chin. "We'll have a patrol car ready to take the nanny to MDPD. I'll take Jake with me. The rest of you will take the house."

Vince took his turn speaking. "That's when I go to the circuit breaker in the street and disable the connections to that house except for the gate. By that time, I'll have figured out the signal the gate works on and open it."

"Meanwhile, I'll be covering the back exit from the safe room on the outside," said Walter.

"We're also betting they have a smaller gasoline driven backup generator in the safe room so we'll be bringing in a high power laser drill," Eric pointed out.

Horatio, standing sideways to the table, and looking down at the photo of the roof top, said, "As long as we have Jake, we could let them stay inside until they decide to come out of their own free will."

Walter examined the outlines of what was supposed to be the safe room. "If that's the safe room, it is smaller than any of the trailer homes they were in. They're likely to come out just to get a breath of free air while they can."

Horatio's voice dropped. "Even the safe room will be as free as they'll be ever again."

The next morning, so high as to be a mere silent dot in the sky, a helicopter was taking digital movies of the beach in the back of the Braillsson mansion. The zoom lens showed the images as if they were being taken only a hundred feet up, not three thousand.

On the land, the day was beautiful and the water spread out from the beach in a watery green blanket that splashed and flashed the sunlight. A few songbirds twittered and sprang from one well-manicured bush to another. All in all, as far as Órsebet Kálmán was concerned, it was a fine time to take the child for a walk. It was a shame she wasn't allowed to go further down. She had discovered all of the seashells she was going to find for now. There wouldn't be more until the next storm stirred some up from the deeper waters. Today, none of the neighbor children were out either. Oh well, at least it was warm enough to let her charge bounce in the water. He had taken his first steps and playing in the water helped to strengthen his muscles. She had asked Mrs. Branson for a bounce chair but the idea had always been put off for some reason.

The child wriggled in her arms, pleased at the sight of the water. He turned an inquiring face to her.

"Yes, water, ocean, play!"

He burbled sounds in return and turned look again as if hoping the water would come to him. Suddenly, he withdrew into her arms as if retreating.

Although Órsebet was not a fan of horror movies, her first impression of the five men rising from the sea was as if some monster with several faceless heads had risen from the shallow water less ten feet away. It split and moved so quickly that, before she could react, the child was torn from her grasp. Her own arms were locked in clammy grasps as she was forced to run at pace unknown to her since her childhood. At first she screamed her own terror but then he primary worry for the child came up and she wailed his new name, "Victor! Victor!"

Horatio was not usually one to hold his breath in times of stress. Now, seeing the child being brought to him, he exhaled after what seemed hours of waiting beside the CSI truck. No, it had been months of waiting.

"Here you go sir. I hope this is the child."

Fallers ripped back his rubber head covering while handing the indignantly wailing child to his arms.

One look into the frightened boy's face told him. "Yes, yes it is. Thank you gentlemen. If you will take the nanny down the road and hand her over to some officers, you can use that van to the ferry and on to your origin point where you can retrieve your clothing."

All of the men stood back as one, saluted Horatio smartly, turned around and left.

First, Horatio ran a quick check on the status of Jake's diapers. Good, they were clean and dry, for now. He opened the back door and put the squalling baby into the infant seat he had previously installed. The red face and the screams pained him. He ran his hand over the pale blond head and quietly shushed at the boy.

"Hey, we went to a whole lot of trouble to get you. It's all okay now. Soon, I'll have you with your mother. Wouldn't you like that?"

Jake shut his eyes and screamed.

"They cut the gas line to the generator and killed the switch. Let's go." Eric was in charge of this part of the movement.

"Walter, are you ready?"

"Just lying on the sand back here, getting a tan. I'm ready for company."

Eric drove the hummer to where the circuit box that was on the street, two houses away. Vince jumped out and cut three wires and jumped back in.

The others in the car looked at him in surprise.

"What? I studied the box before I got here."

Eric smiled to one side of his face. "We're just amazed at your talents."

"Well, let's hope they extend to figuring out the gate code. I put a gadget together but haven't had the chance to try it out. If it doesn't, we go back to the box, I cut the wire and then we manually find the trip to open the thing. No easy task."

The Humvee pulled to the gate and Vince again jumped out and aimed his 'gadget' at the code box. A moment later, he pressed a button and jumped in surprise when the gate grudgingly began to open.

The silver car was then followed by a large van and four screaming police cars. From the van streamed a line of SWAT men in lockstep who advanced to the front door. They did not take the time to announce themselves but battered the door in and streamed inside followed by uniformed officers and the CSI team.

As they expected, no one was visible, either upstairs or down.

Eric then led the men into the 'library'. At first glance, the bookshelf lined room seemed normal enough. The arched palladium window behind the desk showed a fine view of the ocean. Walking to the north wall of shelves, he examined them carefully. Nodding to himself, he tugged on one side of a projection and the whole section came away on a hinge.

"Ah-ha, in too much of a hurry to close it all the way. Probably figured it wouldn't matter anyway."

Facing the men was a large door with a touch pad on one side and speaker-phone on the other. Above was the eye of a camera.

Eric pushed the button on the speaker-phone. "You have three minutes to open the door and come out."

He turned and said quietly. "Let's not waste time. Bring in the laser."

Three minutes later, the laser was set up and ready.

What the inhabitants of the 'safe' room did not understand was that they were not safe against police technology. Eric was ready to bet almost any amount the original architects of the room had seen not just the advertisements but television shows where, should there be an assault on the room, entry would take hours. Unfortunately for most owners of these rooms, they had forgotten something. They were subject to attack on the micro-level.

Barely fifteen minutes after starting, the laser drilled a small hole through the door near the top. Now, standing on a ladder, the SWAT leader had fed a small flexible tube halfway into the opening. The other end of the pipe was attached to a large cylinder. Another cylinder was attached to the primary. The two combined vapors made for the latest in tear gas. It caused symptoms that felt like the worst of asthma attacks; meaning the airways to the lungs contracted and suffocated the victim gasping leaving him or her for breath. The effects only lasted for about three minutes but were devastating to the system.

After receiving a quick nod, Eric said into his phone, "If they're going to come out at all, that would be now Walter."

Walter had received some training in the use of this gas. He knew what it felt like and what was going to happen next. He stood up and motioned his men to do the same and advance to stand around the exit from the room.

This exit was neatly disguised as a hillock of sand against the house. There was an arched passageway leading over a small flight of stairs that led down to the door out several feet with sand piled all around. It looked like a natural feature of that side of the house. The bushes at the end of the passage were actually tall grasses that could easily be pushed aside.

They had hardly assumed their positions when the sound of coughing and gasping plus the sound of feet, first up the stairs then on the cement path and finally onto the sand came to their ears. Both the man and the woman were running blindly, seeking anyplace that would get them away from the fog they thought would surely kill them. Their faces were beet red, their lips were blue, and their eyes were streaming tears.

Finally coming to a weakly struggling halt, each looked around, confused, as the gas induced symptoms abated. They seemed unaware of being handcuffed. Walter had to repeat their Miranda rights to them a second time before their predicament sank in. As expected, each gave the other the evil eye as they were led off in handcuffs.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Frank? Would you meet me in the lab, please? I'm on my way in and I have something I want to show you."

Horatio was fairly certain that Frank would arrive in the lab several minutes before he could get there. He was sure Frank would find Calleigh and pass the time of day while waiting for him to arrive. Giving Jake's diapers one more check, he heaved the lad to his shoulder and headed to the garage elevator. He spoke quietly and patted the child on the back all the way up until Jake quieted down with a great sigh. The poor lad was all tuckered out and no wonder; he had cried all the way to the lab.

Horatio's surprise for the parents was nearly blown as soon as the elevator doors opened. First Travers saw what he had and from there a wave of delight went through the entire lab. Horatio had to keep his finger to his lips nearly the entire walk.

Calleigh and Frank were near the foot of the stairs to Horatio's office. Like couples can do, they were involved in their own private language in their own private space. Seeing Horatio, it was Calleigh who spotted the bundle against his chest first. Her first thought was that he was carrying a stuffed toy. The only reason he would bring a toy into the lab would be for analysis. She thought, '_In that case, shouldn't it be in a plastic bag?_'

The closer he got, the more human the bundle became and she could see the look on his face was unmistakably one of uncharacteristically and gleeful triumph.

When Frank saw her double take, her growing expression of joy, he turned to see what she was staring at so closely.

A second later, Calleigh let out a whoop that would have wakened the dead in the Miami City Cemetery eighteen blocks away. "Jake!"

Horatio gladly handed the again startled baby to his mother and stood back and watched as Calleigh first hugged her child, held him out to look at him from head to foot, and then hugged him to her again.

"Oh Jake! Oh my dear, dear lamb! Oh, thank you Horatio!"

Seconds later, both Frank and Calleigh were surrounded by the lab team, each trying to hug her and to shake Frank's hand. None thought to make fun of the tears streaming from Frank's face. Nor did anyone think twice at the child's tears, much less his mother's.

A few minutes later, Calleigh made a head nod toward Horatio's office and his bobbed quickly in return. Preparing to go after them, he gave a look to the heads of different sections that told them it was time to go back to work.

All except Travers pursued. He had a wistful look on his face as his blue eyes followed Calleigh and Frank.

Horatio slipped over to the thin man's side. "Mr. Travers?"

"Hmm? Oh! Uh, just thinking how awful it must have been for Lieutenant Duquesne all of this time."

"It was."

Travers came out of his trance. "I am truly glad the tot is back home. Well, high-ho." He smiled brightly and walked to his desk.

Horatio had thought to go up to his office to check on the newly reunited trio and then stopped. Even from a distance, it was obvious Calleigh was breast feeding her baby. Frank was touching his feet and his bare legs up to the bottom of his sun-suit.

A phone call made him glad to have something else to do. This wasn't a moment to include himself in the reunion.

"H? We got them. We're taking them to the hospital for a checkup."

"I imagine they are claiming all sorts of ills from the effects of the gas?"

He could almost hear Eric big smile through the phone. "And then some. Strangest thing though."

"What's that?"

"They haven't asked a single question about Jake."

"It's a good thing they don't have any other children of their own."

"Why's that?"

"With child care like that, the human race would disappear in a few generations."

"I'll bring them in for processing as soon as the hospital releases them. Walter is handling the house."

"Thank you."

Horatio hung up and then punched in a speed dial number. "Walter. I want you to get every hair, every fiber, every speck of dust, skin cell, and fingerprint in that house."

"I'm working the nursery now. I went over the house in a quick way first and would you believe, there are no pictures of Jake?"

"I'd believe it. However, lack of presence can't make a case. I want what's there that can show they were responsible for the kidnapping and for keeping him in a way designed so that he couldn't be found."

"You got it, H."

A moment later, Yelina appeared out of the elevator with the nanny in tow.

Horatio flicked his head to a small interrogation room and Yelina escorted the woman to the room. Leaving an officer to stand by the door, she came out to meet Horatio.

"Her name is Órsebet. She is Hungarian though she has been in the US for several months and has a valid green card. She seems very scared and I don't think it's an act. So far, she is denying any knowledge of caring for a kidnapped child."

"We saw her behavior patterns over the weeks, walking no more than a hundred feet in any direction, going back into the house when boats appeared or when people that didn't live directly next door walked by."

"It's possible, even under those circumstances, she didn't suspect. We'll have to ask her about that."

Although her English was halting, Órsebet's knowledge of the language was good enough to make herself understood. "No, I never question why the rules they make me follow. They did not care about the child. I did what I could and they did not care. He was only one more thing to own. I had read where rich Americans were silly creatures. I was only glad to have a good, honest job. Are all of you Americans untrustworthy as well?"

Horatio glanced quickly at Yelina and then bowed his head. He was not one who should be asked that question. Part of his job was to suspect everyone he came across of breaking the law. He leaned forward in his chair and looked sideways at the girl. "I hope the Braillssons will be the last people you meet who will be so disappointing."

After a few minutes, Órsebet was giving a statement as to what her job had been, how she was to perform it and what she observed the people she knew as the Bransons did in relation to the child she knew as 'Victor'.

Yelina left Horatio in charge of watching the girl while she wrote her statement. She want to step out and see Calleigh who was walking with Frank to the elevator.

"I am so happy for you both," greeted Yelina. "He seems to be quite happy."

"Well, there's going to be a ways to go. Right now, he's got a fully tummy and he's worn out. I'm betting a week of routine and being with Frank, Jr. will bring him a long way. We're going to take him to see Alexx right now. We want him checked inside and out."

"Do you suspect any mistreatment?"

"Not so much mistreatment as neglect."

Yelina nodded. "The nanny has stated she did what she could but the Braillssons weren't much as parents.

"When he's ready for company, give me a call. I'd like to visit."

"I sure will. We'd love to have you."

Calleigh looked up at Frank who, staring at his child in dumb adoration, nodded absently. She flashed a helpless smile at Yelina and continued her path to the elevators.

Yelina turned when she heard Horatio's voice calling her name.

"Yelina, after the Assistant State's Attorney's office gets through interviewing Órsebet, I think we're done with her. We can call her back in any time. Does she have any place to go?"

"She has relatives here. We'll call them and see that someone comes to get her."

"Good."

"I'll take her downstairs before the Braillssons are brought in. There is no reason for a confrontation now. She's rattled enough as it is."

"Good idea."

Horatio followed the two as far as the center of the lab and then stopped. He needed to take a breath and make sure all of the t's were being crossed and the i's were being dotted.

His time of contemplation didn't last all that long. The elevator doors opened to reveal Eric and two officers with the Braillssons in hand. The couple were talking non-stop, questioning, demanding, arguing, and complaining.

Eric directed the officers to take the two to separate interview rooms and paused by Horatio's side. "The ride up in the elevators alone was enough to drive me out of my tree."

Horatio's eyes narrowed at memories of his past run-ins with rich people. He spoke quietly and decisively. "They have money and they think they can use it to buy anything including first class service from us. I suggest we change that view by leaving them alone for a while."

"Meaning it's going to be a long night again. Well, I'll call out for dinner later. First I have to make a few phone calls."

Eric paused and asked, "I take it Calleigh went home with Jake?"

"That she did."

Eric's face twisted into a mischievous grin "That will be just one of my calls."

"Take your time brother. The Braillssons aren't going anywhere."

Eric said, "Call me when you want to start in on them." He strolled away.

Horatio walked over to one of the rooms surrounded by transparent walls. He observed Harold Braillson sitting at the clear topped table. When Braillsson raised his head and noticed Horatio, he impatiently motioned him to enter. Horatio's face split into a happy grin as he continued to stand and look at the man. As he expected, Braillsson shouted "You come in here, now!" Horatio cocked his head to one side and then over to the other. Braillsson came closer to the wall and shouted again. Horatio's answer was to blink his eyes at him as if astounded that this caged creature could act in such a human fashion. Braillsson then went to the locked door and pulled several times at the handle. The officer, who easily stood two inches taller than Braillsson and outweighed the man with fifteen pounds of muscle turned and gave the man a scowl. This made Braillsson back away. As a last resort, Braillsson tried slanting his eyebrows and showing the palms of his hands lifted slightly out from his sides in a pleading gesture. As if he had finally gotten what he wanted, Horatio walked away hearing the sound of fists thudding against the glass walls.

Annette Braillsson wasn't yet ready to acknowledge her situation. Although Horatio was fairly sure she was aware of his presence, she kept her eyes steadily on her hands that lay palms up in her lap. No doubt, she was practicing some meditation that a great deal of money had paid for. He hoped it wasn't working for her and planned to stand there until she looked up.

His phone shortened his game with the captive.

"So, Horatio, how are things going?"

"Anita, they are going very well. We caught the kidnappers and Jake is back with Calleigh."

"I am so delighted to hear that."

"In a while, we'll be interrogating the Braillssons."

Horatio heard a quiet chuckle.

Anita said, "Ah, yes, a while. I always thought those 'whiles' should be like the old days when the jailer would come back to find only rat-chewed bones."

"What is worse, these people are going to call for their lawyer as soon as we allow them to open their mouths."

"Does that mean they will go free?"

"No, I think we have enough proof to hold them. They have to be arraigned first. Owing to the crime and who they committed it against; it's likely the judge won't approve bail."

"For Calleigh's sake, I hope not."

"As do I."

There was an awkward pause as the two tried to find something more to talk about. Horatio thought of something first.

"How is your case going?"

"Done and over. A case of jealously in the extreme. The girl had both boys on the line and couldn't decide. She knew who did the murder and knew that if she gave him up, she would be alone. Of course, she didn't get to that final step in her thought processes."

"At that age, they seldom do."

"Horatio, it sounds like you will be free soon. How about making good on that promise about visiting the Keys?"

"I have another couple of weeks of having to wrap up details."

Anita imitated his tone, "As do I." Then she laughed.

"If you can come down after that, you'll be able to be present for Alcantar's plea bargaining."

"You still think he'll plead guilty?"

"I believe so. Even though we have the death penalty and you don't, he'll have years of appeals. In Mexico, you're prisons aren't quite as safe either."

Anita sighed into the phone. "I have to keep reminding myself that as long as he is off the streets, I should be happy."

"It's all we get, Anita."

"Call me when Alcantar is ready to go to court. I'll book a flight."

"Don't bother to book a hotel, alright?"

"Señor Rojo, are you planning to take advantage of the poor little Mexican girl again?"

Horatio looked around to be sure he wasn't being overheard. "Poor little Mexican girl my ass. You showed me some tricks last time that I will never forget."

"And I hardly know you yet. Just you wait."

"That's one of the reasons why I'd like you to stay with me."

"There are others?"

"I like your company." It felt odd to be so honest, to not hedge.

"I'll do that on one condition."

"Which is?"

"That you tell me the moment you are uncomfortable with the arrangement. I'll do the same. In either case, I'll go to a hotel with no hard feelings. Deal?"

"Deal." Horatio knew this was easier said than done. Always, in the world of human feelings between couples, one was more infatuated with the other. Too often, the one to call if off was the more diffident in the first place and the other was caught off guard and very much hurt. And yet, after that one evening with her, the temptation was too great.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Three weeks later, Horatio was sitting in his office, tending to the never ending paper work, signing, initialing, stacking and reaching for another folder.

"Horatio?"

"Calleigh, come in. What can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you."

He invited her in.

Their conversation went on for some time.

Two hours later, Horatio called Ryan into his office.

"What's up, H?"

An hour after that, down on the floor, Eric asked Ryan, "Did he ask you?"

"You mean you knew?"

"Yeah, he asked me and I refused. I prefer what I'm doing. What did you tell him?"

"I said I'd have to think about it."

"Hey, if you don't and I don't, then someone else will come in. Walter and Natalia aren't qualified yet."

Ryan gave an empty look to his friend. "I know but…well, it's a lot to take in. I told him I'd give him an answer in a few days."

"Oh," Yelina exclaimed, "the table is beautiful." She was talking about the tablecloth and setting for dinner on the new set of dining furniture.

"We figured it was time to get it. I chose the dining furniture and Frank chose the living room."

Ryan looked back into the living room at the collection of recliners. One was a double sized recliner in which two people could comfortably sit side by side.

Seeing Ryan's gaze, Frank bragged, "They're all on casters too. This way we can move them wherever we want with no trouble. Next week, I've got a guy coming in to build a window seat in that bay window."

"It's going to have an extra feature in that it can be turned into a playpen," said Calleigh brightly.

"Aren't the twins a little old for playpens?" asked Yelina.

Calleigh's grin spread wider. "It's not for the twins."

"Hey, Calleigh, that is great," smiled Ryan. He advanced to give her a rare hug and then turned to Frank, paused and shook the large hand.

After hugging Calleigh, Yelina stepped back and said, "We're expecting too."

Frank and Calleigh looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"When did that happen?" Calleigh asked.

"Not for a while yet." Yelina blushed.

"What she means is, we're just starting the process," put in Ryan.

Frank, never one for word games, asked, "You mean you have to get ready to make a baby?"

"Frank, we're adopting." Yelina knew how to face the big man down.

"You see, we both got some genetic testing done. My family has diabetes from both sides and…"

"My family has breast cancer."

"So we got tested and we're both carriers for our families' respective diseases. There is almost a certainty our children would have one or even both."

"If Ray Jr. has girls, they will have to get start getting tested early and often."

"I watched my grandmother, an uncle, and two aunts suffer from the side effects of diabetes. One of my sisters has it. Hers is under control but that's the best science can do for now."

"Life's a gamble, isn't it?" Frank wanted to know. "Why not take a chance?"

"It's not like we're going to test each kid we think we want to adopt, Frank," Ryan countered. "As it is with the two of us, our kid is going to have one disease or the other. Why bring a child into the world that way. There are enough who are already born with no choice. We'll be happy with who we can find, disease or not."

Calleigh asked, "Well, have you started looking yet?"

Looking at Yelina, Ryan smiled and said, "Well, first we're discussing where to look. There are so many kids and they're all over the world. We're going to check out Columbia for sure and I have some Hungarian in my background."

Calleigh invited them to sit at the table and began producing the dinner while Ryan and Yelina got more enthusiastic about their plans.

The dinner became a celebration of the future, the new furniture and a dinner well cooked.

A week after that, Horatio nearly dozed off under the application of the suntan lotion to his back. He regained pleasant consciousness when the lotion was applied to the backs of his thighs and higher.

"Careful there."

"Are you objecting?"

"Not at all. I just didn't want you to start something out here in front of the general public." He was referring to the occupants of the other cottages nearby.

"I have only the best of intentions. Now time to turn over."

Anita had become quite the expert at knowing where to put the most lotion for the best effect on Horatio's pale skin. Although even the highest SPF didn't protect him entirely, he at least didn't burn on their short beach walks.

Finishing off by slathering extra lotion on Horatio's nose, Anita wiped her hands on a towel and said, "Ready for a walk?"

Although Horatio would rather have spent time dozing in the shade of the lanai that was part of the bungalow they had rented for the week he knew he couldn't put a certain subject off any more. So, heaving himself off of the comfortable couch, he stretched as he assembled his thoughts. Both had on light shirts that really did nothing to protect their skin from the sun's rays but offered a kind of light shade. These combined with their broad brimmed Panama hats and sunglasses that created the perfect picture of vacationers staying on the eastern shore of Key West.

"You seem to do vacationing very well."

"I guess it's only when I have very good company to do it with."

"You are certainly different now than when we met in Mexico."

"I was on the run then; now, I'm not."

"And it shows."

Most of the walk was in silence. Only the quiet waves lapping at the white sand spoke in quiet harmony with the whisper of the wind in their ears.

"I'm giving retirement some serious thought, Anita."

Anita stopped dead in her tracks. "Of all the things you could have said, that was about the last thing I would have expected!"

Horatio pulled at her hand indicating he wanted to continue walking. He kept his voice even as if he were discussing the weather. "It sounds odd even to me. I keep going back to the idea though."

"What reasons do you have?" Anita's voice still had an edge.

"I have no complaints about the job, I never have had. The thing is, I have been at this work for over ten years and have been at police work for nearly forty. I think I'm ready for something new."

Horatio looked at the horizon that nearly melted into the sky for a moment. "Maybe the word retirement isn't right. Perhaps release from the organized work force is a better way to put it."

"What would you do instead?"

"I'm not sure. I thought I could maybe travel to large cities, stopping in at their forensic departments and inquiring if they have cases that they can't get a handle on. Perhaps I can act as a consultant, as an extra eye."

"What about your friends in the lab, your family?"

"Kyle and I will always stay in constant contact just as we did when he was in Afghanistan, and I would go back to Miami a few times a year. I have already provided for those who need it. As for the rest, this would have to come about some time. A while ago, Calleigh came in to tell me she was retiring. She's expecting again."

"I'm delighted for her. I'm curious though, why didn't she retire when Jake was kidnapped?"

"I think she wanted to before but hung in until Jake was found even though she couldn't help."

"And the rest of the team?"

"I told Eric about Calleigh and then what I had been thinking about. Since he's next in line, I asked him to think about gearing up to take over. He refused."

"What?"

"He said he would take over Calleigh's spot, just not mine." Horatio shrugged. "It's his choice."

"So, where does that leave the team?"

"Well, I had a long talk with Ryan Wolfe. He's come a long way since he came first joined the team and I think he is wiser than his years. Aside from Eric, he is the best qualified. In any case, the rest of the team would back him up as they have me. He took a while to think about it and said if I was going to leave, he'd take the job."

"So it is settled?"

"I haven't put in my papers yet, if that's what you mean. Besides, it will take a couple of months to train anyone on the paperwork, who to contact when, who to avoid when, who to avoid at any cost and so on."

"I still don't understand what would make you think of this?"

Horatio walked a few steps further, bent down, picked up a seashell, and examined it carefully. Satisfied, he tossed it back to the water. "I need something more in my life. The way the job is, I can't seem to get it."

"But you are still only considering the idea."

"I brought it up to you to see if you can find any gaping holes."

"Well, I'm sure you have retirement benefits coming so you could probably not work if it came to that."

"And I can also sell my home and a few properties I own for a fair amount." Horatio had always thought of the real estate as merely partly his. He had planned to set up a trust fund for his niece, Madison so she could have a college education. School would take up only about a half of the money he would leave her, and then, after graduation, she could have the rest of the money to give her life a good start. He also had plans to leave trusts for Ray, Jr. and, of course for Kyle. They wouldn't know about it until they needed it.

"So, you could live comfortably even traveling around, staying at motels and so on."

"Actually, I thought I would buy a large RV and outfit it with some simple equipment for forensic work. What used to be large and expensive is now fairly compact and affordable."

"Have you contacted any of these city departments with your idea?"

"I've got three letters showing interest."

The two reached the end of the beach and turned around.

Anita shook her head knowing the man's mind was settled anyway. "No, I'm not seeing anything wrong with the idea if this is what you want."

"We would stay in contact, of course. Two of the interested letters are from Albuquerque and San Diego. The cases are cold and each would take some time to dig through just to see if I can find anything."

Anita tried and failed to keep her face from lighting up.

"Both cities have regular flights to Mexico City."

"I believe they do."

"And where is the third city?"

"Amarillo."

"I see a pattern there."

"Well, I purposely didn't write to the northern cities. I had enough of New York cold."

"Is that all?"

Horatio turned to face Anita and pulled her into his arms. "No, it's not all. I'm not done analyzing a certain Mexican lass. Now, the question is, how do you feel about such proximity?"

"Just so long as it is only me you analyze and not my cases-unless I ask."

Horatio kissed her. "I wouldn't think of it." He kissed her again, more hungrily, glad to feel her press herself against his body.

Horatio stood at the small empty table at the back of the restaurant with Ryan.

"I know you just want a quiet dinner with us before you leave and this is what I came up with. I asked you to come a little earlier than the rest H because I really wanted to thank you personally for everything you've done in the last couple of weeks.

"I hope it has been enough to make the job a little easier."

Ryan's cell rang. "Darn, I forgot to turn it off." He looked at the face of the phone. "Excuse me while I take this."

Ryan walked away speaking quietly while Horatio observed the table set for five. Something seemed off here.

"Horatio, can you come here for a second? It's Calleigh and she's got something to say." Ryan held out the phone forcing Horatio to walk around the table to take it.

"Yes Calleigh?"

Suddenly a pair of doors beside Horatio marked Banquet Room opened up and Calleigh came out followed by the CSI team, all crying out, "Surprise!" Behind them was a crowd that nearly filled the room.

Ryan came forward and clapped the blushing man on the back. "I tried to keep it small, H, but would have suffered the wrath of everyone else here. They all wanted to give you their well wishes personally and I couldn't say no."

At the back of the room hung a swag of letters reading, 'Not goodbye, only farewell'.

The 'everyone' Ryan referred to included the mayor of Miami, several city council members, the chief of police as well as uniformed officers, plain clothes detectives, bomb squad, SWAT and their wives and girlfriends. Many who would ordinarily be at these city affairs were missing, on purpose. Those thought they would be glad to see Horatio gone anyway.

As Horatio began tabulating who was there and who wasn't, he wondered how many of them knew of Ryan's reputation for being strong and stubborn on the job. In fact, patience and understanding towards those who opposed what he knew to be right was, at the moment, nearly beyond the younger man. Well, at that age, so it had been for him.

Almost immediately, the speeches started. To everyone's credit, they were brief and only from people who really counted. Horatio and Calleigh were both presented with several certificates of appreciation and medals for bravery that they could be added to the rest that they had received over the years.

An hour later, some of the people began making their excuses and departing. They had shaken Horatio's hand, wished him well, and eaten from the buffet. Slowly people drifted out. An hour later, the lab members started to depart, taking doggy bags of the leftover food. Maxine had given Eric a quick kiss and he nodded at her whisper that she would see him at home.

Finally, sitting near the empty podium, the streamers overhead waving gently in the breeze of the air conditioner, the team sat together for the last time. Frank sat slightly behind Calleigh, and Yelina was slightly behind Ryan.

Calleigh was speaking, tears rolling down her face. "You know, I wish I could start all over again; be that rookie looking at the broom closet we had for a lab."

Natalia spoke up. "I can't even imagine that compared to what we have now."

"I hear you got the funding for the new lab through your work with old DNA cases for the FBI," put in Walter.

Natalia giggled. "Yeah and then I got sidetracked onto the whole CSI thing."

"And a good thing for us too." Ryan said.

"Thanks Ry…boss."

Everyone looked to Horatio whose face was as unreadable as a blank wall.

He had heard the correction and felt comforted that the transition was taking place so easily.

"H, I'm going to miss you more than I can say."

Standing with his foot on the stair rung that lead to the interior of his RV, Horatio bent his head sideways with a smile. "We're as close as our phones, Bro."

"Yeah, but it's not the same."

"No, but that's the way we grow, Eric."

Eric wanted to whine that he didn't want to grow, didn't want to lose this father-figure/brother-in-law who had become so important to him. He wanted to get mad and tell the man to stop being a quitter and get back to his office because they had work to do. On the other hand, he had to admit that Ryan seemed to have taken on the job with surprising ease. He even had the same gestures as Horatio on occasion. Then he had remembered that he had seen Ryan unconsciously copying H more and more in recent years so that was no wonder. Still, it wasn't the same. It never would be

Horatio could tell he would not convince Eric now. The parting was painful for him as well. It had been hard to leave New York, even though, after his wife had been killed, he knew he had to. Now it was harder to leave Miami and the people who had become his family.

Horatio clapped Eric on the shoulder and climbed into the gigantic RV. Sliding behind the wheel, he turned the ignition and listened to the purring chug of the diesel engine. Checking the mirrors, he pulled out of the lot and onto the road. Seeing Eric was waving, he double honked and accelerated.

He wanted to stay almost as much as he was ready to leave. He wanted to be with his family. On the other hand, the job was his way of being with his family and he was getting to the point where he couldn't do the field work that was as necessary as the lab work. The running and the tackling hurt every scar he'd accumulated, made them feel like they were tearing open his skin and muscles down to the bone. His body was wearing out. He could spend his days behind a desk but that was a slow death, as far as he was concerned.

"You live back here?"

Anita was looking at the bedroom that barely had space for the single bed, a dresser and a half closet. The rest of the area width was a bathroom that incorporated a shower and toilet in a place barely large enough to turn around in. She looked up at the redhead with disbelief.

Carelessly he said, "I sleep and clean up here." Horatio was referring to the fact that his life was spent in the first three-quarters of the vehicle and he only used the back for necessities.

Anita had already seen the very tiny kitchen with the two burner stove, the sink that a small dinner plate might fit in and the efficiency sized refrigerator.

What impressed her was that almost half of the interior of the expandable RV was given over to the 'lab'.

Finally, giving up trying to comprehend how or why anyone would think this was a 'good' way to live, Anita shrugged. "Well, tonight you get to sleep in a real bed, and won't have to avoid stumbling into the toilet while showering."

Although the two had not greeted each other like lovers after the three month separation, Horatio did wonder what bed he would be sleeping in that night. To him, the time apart from her had put her more on his mind than not.

After bringing in a change of clothes and toiletries for an overnight stay, he an Anita settled down for an afternoon cup of coffee and some fruit with sweet bread.

Horatio related that his stopover in Amarillo had been a success. He had solved two crimes for the police, one recent and one which had been on the books for three years.

Then Anita talked about what her office had been doing.

Horatio drained his cup and rose. He reached for Anita's hand and receiving it, gently pulled her to her feet. "I feel like I didn't greet you properly."

"I understand. You didn't know I had sent Tia Mirabel to visit her sister." Anita giggled as she drew herself to him, wrapping her arms around his back.

"True." He bent down and kissed her.

Two hours later, wound in each other's arms in Anita's bed, Anita asked about Horatio's next plans.

"Albuquerque next month, I think. They have an old case that they wanted me to work on. After that, San Diego always has more cases than their forensic people can get through."

Anita grunted and chewed over the information. She had known what his plans were and had only wanted confirmation. "Horatio, if I were to meet someone else and marry him, how would you feel?"

After a very long pause, Horatio asked in a quiet whisper, "Have you?"

Anita rose up quickly stared angrily into his face. "Do you really think I'd have brought you into my bed if I did?"

Horatio stared hard at the ceiling. "You brought up the subject. Now you are answering a question with a question."

"Which you did first."

Both were smiling now.

Anita threw herself back into the crook of Horatio's arm and gave his chest a quick kiss. "No, I haven't met anyone. It's just that, as our lives are going at the moment, I'm just saying 'if', how would you feel? I mean, where are we in your eyes?"

"Right now, or in the foreseeable future, if you suddenly said, 'Hey Horatio, I met this guy and we're getting married,' I'd say congratulations and send you a wedding gift. Beyond that, well, I can also see you and me getting serious. Right now, the logistics aren't great for much of a relationship, wouldn't you say?"

Anita considered the words and finally nodded. "I'm not ready to give up here and you still have to pay for your new toy."

"Yup. I'm kind of stuck until I do."

"Then look, let's not think of ourselves as serious. If you meet someone for a while I will understand."

Horatio absorbed the notion for a while before answering. "So, we're friends with benefits and nothing more?"

"I'd like it to be that way for now. We're not giving up our jobs, that's for sure. I'm as likely to meet someone as you are so why pass up chances for a good future, if that's possible for either one of us?"

"I'd say we're a hell of a pair. We're both so devoted to our work, we can't get our heads out of our asses. If either of us can find someone who will put up with our ways, then the other has to wish them well."

Horatio started laughing. It became a roaring, belly laugh that turned into a release. He felt the strain of thirty-five years of sadness, of the many losses, of pain floating up and out. He was finally free.

The End

Dear Readers,

As you may no doubt have guessed, this is the end of my version of Horatio Caine as a CSI. I am leaving this field and going out to practice my writing chops in other areas, not necessarily fan fiction. I thank you all for reading my work and for the comments so many of you have given me. I have learned so much about writing over the years I will forever be in debt to this program. For all of you who are writing your own versions of Horatio, write on!


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